


Command Space

by mariadperiad20



Series: Foray into B99 [10]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Jake Peralta, Consent Issues, Discrimination, Dom Amy Santiago, Dom/Sub AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Peraltiago, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Coercion, Slow Burn, Sub Jake Peralta, Subspace, Trauma, eventual Amy/Jake, peraltiago is endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariadperiad20/pseuds/mariadperiad20
Summary: Jake Peralta is a detective in the 99th precinct. He’s also a sub. All he wants is to solve crimes and put away bad guys… and never, ever, go into subspace again. It doesn’t help that every perp tries to force him to his knees so they can make an escape, or that when Amy looks at him he finds himself almost wanting to be hers. Almost.Dom/sub AU with a pile of angst the size of the Nakatomi tower (and the eventual comfort to match).
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Original Female Character(s), Jake Peralta/Original Male Character(s), Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Series: Foray into B99 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320137
Comments: 479
Kudos: 853
Collections: GoodShit





	1. Chapter 1

Jake always made little refusals.

He didn’t take the offered seat when he reported to his old Captain in the office. Lagged around to avoid walking through a door being opened for him. Did his paperwork stack from the bottom up instead of the other way around. Refused to lend people pens. Didn’t do errands for others - even coffee runs.

Jake had found that saying lots of little ‘no’s made it easier to hold his ground when he had to refuse something important.

Like right now.

His back was to the wall, grip on his gun tight, eyes never wavering from the perp - Dylan Millhound - in front of him.

“I said, NYPD, get on the ground!” Jake repeated. Amy was supposed to be coming around from the back of the house, blocking off the exit in case the guy tried to make a run for it.

The perp had a gun, but he wasn’t raising it, so Jake didn’t shoot. Not yet.

Millhound was eyeing Jake strangely, before a light seemed to go off, his demeanor changing from one of tension to one at ease.

“Drop your gun.” He said firmly, tone that of an absolute command.

Jake didn’t blink. His grip tightened. “You first.”

Millhound took a step towards him, gun still limp in his own hand. But not dropping it.

“Do it. Now.”

Jake frowned. “That doesn’t work on me. Now. Drop. The. Gun!”

Amy still hadn’t shown up. He could seriously, seriously use her backup right about now.

Millhound was on the approach, almost swaggering towards Jake, who would have rolled his eyes if it didn’t mean taking his eyes off the target.

Jake knew what Millhound was doing. Hoping that proximity to him would make him drop his gun, maybe drop to his knees too while he was at it.

That wasn’t going to happen.

“Last warning. I will shoot if you do not halt, now.” Jake’s finger pressed down on the trigger, about to fire a non-lethal shot into the perp’s shoulder, as Millhound’s grin faltered.

Then, his grip on the gun tightened, and he began to raise it towards Jake, before freezing and dropping it.

Amy had the barrel of her gun to the back of the perp’s head.

“Get on the ground, NYPD.” She panted, clearly out of breath.

Millhound sank to his knees, and Amy cuffed him, reading him his rights, before speaking to Jake.

“Sorry about the delay. Turns out this perp’s a hoarder, too - stuff was covering the backyard, nearly lost a shoe trying to get through it all. Looks like I got here just in time though, huh?”

“Of course. The sub cop needs help taking down a perp. Couldn’t do it on my own - I bet you think you could have done it by yourself?” Jake spat, clicking the safety back onto his gun and shoving it into his holster. He was picking a fight and he knew it, the nerves from refusing Millhound frustrating him - he shouldn’t have to have nerves from refusing to drop his weapon in the first place! - even more than the nerves themselves were.

Amy turned her head to face him, expression a mix of anger and frustration. “Seriously, Jake? That’s not what this is about! We’re partners, we’re supposed to work together.”

“Sure.” Jake knew she was right, but he was pissed off. He hated it when perps made him as a sub. It always made the situation worse. Plus, then they’d have to put it in the report. Just another tick mark against every other sub who wanted to be a cop from entering the field.

Amy, of course, knew what it was really about. She always did.

“It’s alright, Jake.” She said comfortingly, “You’re a good cop. Second best in the precinct, in fact,” She grinned cheekily, then added, softly, “You did good.” The words were innocent in themselves, but the tone was on the wrong end of encouraging, a little too close to praising.

“I don’t want your praise.” Jake bristled immediately at the words, crushing down any of the warm feeling he got whenever someone - especially Amy - praised him. He refused to be manipulated.

Amy nodded hurriedly, smile melting into mild worry. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

Jake could have chewed her out over it. But Amy wasn’t the one he was really mad at. It was himself more than anyone else - although if someone asked, he’d blame Millhound. So, instead, he just shrugged, and plastered a grin to his face. “It’s fine. Let’s just go.” As they walked to the squad car, he paused, swiveling on the spot to face her.

“Wait, did you say _second_ best cop?” He asked, in mock horror.

Amy’s smile reappeared.

And, just like that, they were back to their usual banter, the dispute vanishing into irrelevance.

No matter what happened, Jake could never hold anything against Amy. Their orientations never stopped her from bantering, and working with him, and just… all around treating him like an equal.

Which he _was_.

It’s just that not everyone seemed to share that same opinion.

His old precinct certainly hadn’t - even after he finally managed to claw his way to detective status, he got stuck doing desk duty more than any other detective in the place. Investigations, sure, that was fine - but being placed in the field? Whenever those assignments were going out, Jake’s name, strangely, never came up.

He was the only sub detective in the 125. When he had submitted his transfer papers, they had asked him if it was due to a dom in his life.

Jake had nearly laid into them, before realizing that it would only hurt the next sub who applied, and forcing himself to say that no, he just wanted to be in a precinct with more ‘upward mobility’. Code for: fuck you, this place sucks. But in a professional tone!

He hated that every single - well, negative - thing he did was suddenly a reflection on _every_ sub cop in the entirety of the NYPD. But, it was the hand he was dealt, so… here he was. Part of the 99.

Amy was driving, and wouldn’t let him change the music - who listens to Bach while driving? Even Holt chose to drive in silence instead - so Jake stared aimlessly out the window instead, watching the billboards sweep by.

 _L’Oreal Paris: Because he’s worth it._ A picture of a female sub posed, collar on display and eyes looking differentially upwards, next to a perfume bottle.

 _Oxi-Clean: it gets the tough stains out!_ A classically handsome dom grins, finger pointing to the detergent in question.

 _Tiffany Jewelry: “Beautiful design makes a beautiful life”_ , with wedding rings and collars appearing to be “falling” down past the billboard itself.

 _Abusive dom? Cellino & Barnes specialty! Call: 8! 800-8-_.

Jake looked away.

Amy’s boring music was suddenly much more interesting.

Millhound was, thankfully, silently sitting in the backseat - he had wisely decided not to say anything without an attorney present.

And with Amy being a responsible driver all the time - eyes on the road, attentive, like a boring person - she wasn’t saying much either.

It left Jake with nothing but his thoughts to occupy himself.

Always a dangerous pastime.

His fingers drummed on his legs, nervous energy beginning to boil over. He hated being in enclosed spaces for longer than necessary - one of the many reasons why he loved the bullpen so much. Jake didn’t mention this sentiment to Amy, however - she was _intensely_ claustrophobic - so he kept it to himself, instead just continuing his agonizing, slow spiral of manic energy.

When they arrived at the department, Jake was eager to leave the car.

“You drive like a grandma!” He complained, closing the car door behind him as Amy clambered out of the driver’s seat.

“I’m a cautious driver, Jake!”

“Cautious?” Millhound asked with a leer, “I’d expect that out of the priss, not you.”

Jake’s eyebrow twitched, but before he could respond, Amy butted in.

“Well, if you were more ‘cautious’, you wouldn’t have been caught, huh, _Dylan_?” She said hotly, pulling him out of the squad car and signaling for a couple cops to take him to booking.

Jake waited until Millhound was out of earshot before saying, “I didn’t need you to defend me.”

Amy blinked, before frowning. “Seriously, Jake? He… that language isn’t appropriate, no matter who it’s being directed to!”

“Oh, so you’re upset because he compared you to me? A great wonderful dom being debased to my _clearly_ inferio-”

“Jake, stop!” Amy yelled, voice hitting him like a brick.

Jake drew back, struck silent. His mouth was slightly open, eyes wide. His breath caught in his throat, body going absolutely stiff. The words on his tongue were shoved back into his mind. _Stop._

Amy clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified. “Oh my god, Jake, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” She made as if to reach out to touch him, but instead let her hand fall to her side. She had already violated him once.

Jake used her hesitation in motion as time to force a reboot, clicking his mouth shut and crossing his arms to try to hide the snap of _obey_ that had flashed through his brain. Apparently short circuiting everything around it while it had done so, considering his mind went completely blank for half a second, before he forced it back into motion, trying to recover quickly. He didn’t want Amy to realize it had hit him that hard.

“It’s alright. Just, forget it. Not my job to tell you what to do.” Jake shrugged, feigning nonchalance, although his words were still slightly bitter - even though he didn’t mean to. Bitterness meant it had worked on him, after all.

“It’s not mine, either.” Amy said quickly, and she looked so apologetic that Jake just felt his anger melt away. “I’m _so_ sorry, Jake.”

“It’s okay. Seriously. Now, come on. You’re the arresting officer, so you have to do most of the paperwork.”

Her eyes lit up, although it seemed like a conscious choice on her part. “Ooh, paperwork.”

He took the change in conversation and ran with it, letting a trademark grin flash across his face. “If you’re that excited, I have some you can do sitting on my desk-”

“In your dreams.” Amy replied, rolling her eyes as the pair headed inside.

Jake kept smiling, but was internally berating himself. He had done fine during the confrontation with the perp, but when Amy had given him a command… _It must have been because he was already on edge from Millhound,_ Jake reasoned, _That’s why he’d… listened… to her._ Jake refused to use the word ‘obey’ to describe himself - he wasn’t a dog, he was a person.

Jake refused to believe that, when Amy had commanded him, he had _wanted_ to follow it. No, that was just the leftover stress from Millhound. He was still on his nerves.

That was why.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is going to be a long-fic! I've been writing a lot of oneshots and requests for this fandom, I figured it was time to make a monster of a fic and give this a go so... here we are. Waiting for s7 to drop has me a Peraltiago mess smh
> 
> if you enjoyed it, please comment & kudo! :D


	2. Chapter 2

Jake was working on his report when Holt walked past, attempting to get to the coffee machine without interruption.

Jake knew for a fact they were out of coffee - he had thought about making another cup, but didn’t want to have them assume he would just _do_ that now.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Jake always was, when it came to this sort of thing. Something that everyone on the team did more or less evenly - except Hitchcock and Scully, no one trusted them with the machine - set Jake on edge every time he did it, as if his entire history with all of them would just fly out the window, and he’d lose their respect, if he did something as simple as stick in some fresh grounds.

So, when Holt went to pour coffee, he discovered that the pot was empty, which did little for his already poor mood. Kevin had gotten a case of the flu, probably from a college student, as they were "always teeming with diseases of various kinds", according to Holt. And now, the two had agreed to spend a period of quarantine in order to prevent the spread of it to Holt, and, subsequently, the precinct.

Quite simply, Holt had noticed, and then later noted, that the lack of Kevin’s company had been distressing to him. So now, with the coffee pot empty, and exactly 4.62 more hours left in the work day, he was… disgruntled.

Jake watched as Holt made a fresh pot - the Captain meticulously measured it, and had once mentioned that, in their home, he and Kevin used a weight scale so as to have the exact proper amount - and then re-enter the bullpen.

“Squad!” Holt spoke loudly enough to get their attention, “I will be sending a memo about replenishing the pot of coffee when you are the one to finish it.”

He walked into his office, and, a few minutes later, Jake looked up at his computer as it dinged, said memo popping up.

Jake took a sip of his cooling coffee, deciding it was best not to say anything. He probably _should_ have just made a new pot. But it was hard to do something everyone else did, when he would be the one 'giving in' by doing it.

He glanced at Holt through the window of his office. He was… well, as enigmatic as always, but definitely annoyed, at least a bit.

Jake respected Holt, in a way he rarely did most authority figures. His Captain in the 125 had been an absolute prick, making sure to let his opinions on sub-integration into precincts a known fact, and his disapproval of Jake all the more so. His previous Captain in the 99, McGintley, who Holt replaced, had been better about it.

He was old-fashioned, which was normally code for anti-sub, except the guy was too lazy to be “anti” anything. So long as Jake did his job, he quote, “Didn’t care about orientation, color, none of it.” Jake didn’t mind - well, didn’t mind as much - the occasional surprised, slightly prejudicial comment, because it was all passive, and it didn’t effect his case quality or anything meaningful like that. Jake knew it wasn’t ideal, and was actually quite frustrating - not that he could ever admit it got under his skin, lest he get punished career-wise for it -, but it was miles better than before.

So, he had settled into his Captain’s presence with only token resistance.

When McGintley had retired, and command said they were bringing in a new Captain, Jake had braced for the worst. He had transferred to the 99 specifically because he knew another sub - who turned out to be Charles - worked there, and he figured that if the Captain sucked, at least they could complain about it together. Not that he didn't trust his team to back them up if the new guy was shit - just that what if they didn't?

Jake had been ready to encounter another 125-type Captain. A condescending, patronizing old white dom man, who would make jokes about how much he hated his wife and how Jake belonged in HR with the others ‘like him’.

Needless to say, Holt had been… not what Jake expected.

He had come in all sharp edges and harsh, and Jake had rebelled. Hard.

It took Jake far too long to notice that, despite Holt’s strict practices of running the precinct, he never once gave a command. Orders, yes. It was his job, after all. And he hadn’t so much as blinked at Jake’s orientation - Jake mistook his being denied cases because of his lack of tie-wearing being a more subtle way of anti-sub sentiment.

Jake hated ties - they reminded him too much of a collar. But Jake would rather quit than admit that. In the end, he had understood that it was a uniform, and donned it with only slight discomfort.

The fact that Holt had said he overdid it on the manscaping was a sign in and of itself - most doms liked having subs seem diminutive, and Jake being a male sub was enough to draw skepticism already - and his comment should have told off on the fact that Holt wasn't necessarily going to be another 125 Captain.

Granted, it still made him feel weird, having it around his neck. Made him feel vulnerable. But he adjusted to it well enough - easy to ignore vulnerability when you're a cop, after all.

But still, Holt - once Jake had gotten over the whole tie thing - had been surprising for a Captain. He was black, gay, and a switch. From the ‘80s.

Jake was surprised Holt had ever managed to even get hired to begin with, let alone make Captain - but would never say as much.

People would say the same thing about him and Boyle, after all.

Switches had been allowed into the Academy in the '70s. And sub-integration only started in New York in the ‘90s - Charles had actually been one of the first to be let into the Academy for cop training, something that Jake hadn’t realized until Charles had been excitedly talking about how he was one of the older trainees - 20 instead of the usual 18.

“Yeah, it was the first time I was allowed to apply!” Charles had explained, “It was the same year I first had a souffle made out of cow entrails for my birthday.”

“Ew, Charles!” Then, “Wait, you were in the first class? Like, ever?”

“Yep! It was me and one other sub in the whole class of 84 cadets - and in the entire Academy, heh. I still send him Christmas cards, and he’s on the Boyle weekly email blast, you know.”

Jake had gained a newfound respect for Charles after that. He had applied to the Academy and, while it was definitely a steep hill to climb, Jake at least knew it was _possible_.

His class had had 8 total, that he knew of, out of 70-something. Better than when Charles applied, but nowhere near equal to one another.

The demographics weren't exact, but the census approximated the numbers. Doms made up about 45% of the population, subs 40%, and the other 15% were switches. It used to be, male switches were lumped into doms, and females to subs. The census only started taking count of switches - even admitting they _existed_ , as oppose to subs faking it for men, or subs pretending to be equal for women - in the '40s, during WWII. Even now, it was rumored that a lot of switch males chose to "pass" as doms, just for the sake of convenience, or family pressure.

But, despite the wonky numbers, it was undeniable that there were discrepancies. It was more likely to see a switch in a position of authority than it was to see a sub, while the amount of doms absolutely swamped them both when it came to pay, promotions, and positions.

The jobs that _were_ sub-dominated - a term that a lot of doms liked to joke about in a less-than-ideal way - tended to have worse pay, and, despite being necessary, weren’t really given the same level of value. Nearly all nurses and doctors were subs, but heads of wards and surgeons were doms. Teachers were subs, generally, but principals were doms or switches. Even the precinct’s own HR department was comprised entirely of subs, except for one dom - who just so happened to be the manager.

One of the reasons Jake was grateful for the NYPD’s equal pay regulation, under regulation of being a government-funded organization - he was getting paid the exact same per hour as everyone else at his level in the NYPD. Or, at least, he was supposed to be.

Despite the rules, it wasn’t like they ever got to see the breakdowns.

Maybe he could ask Rosa how much she made.

And maybe he could go ahead and call 911 beforehand, so they could be ready with the ambulance when she punched him into next week for asking a “personal” question.

Jake had once asked her if she wanted pepperoni or cheese pizza, and she had threatened to eviscerate him if he ever asked her something about her life again.

Jake had gotten her pepperoni, since he _did_ know she wasn’t Jewish. A fact that he was only kinda mostly sure of, anyway - he had once seen her with a mark on her forehead for Ash Wednesday.

Rosa was currently cleaning under her nails with one of her knives, staring at the open file in front of her.

Jake didn’t know her orientation, and everyone was too scared to ask. Even though the NYPD wasn’t allowed to discriminate based on orientations, they always required it to be listed on forms. Holt knew, but Jake was sure he would be chewed out on the spot for asking - or, worse, subjected to Rosa’s wrath.

She didn’t follow commands like a sub, and she could give a command _really_ well - part of why Charles was so taken with her for so long - so she was probably a dom, but he couldn’t really rule out switch. They had gone to the Academy together, after all, and she had always had his back. Without expecting sex in return - not a trait most doms were capable of having.

Once, she had memorably threatened to cut a guy’s fingers off and shove them up his ass after he had been putting his hands on Jake’s wrists and trying to command him to his knees.

Not many doms were that considerate.

Jake wished he was enigmatic like her - no one would know his orientation, he could just blend in with all the other detectives and do his job without all the extra fuss over his supposedly questionable qualifications. Yet, here he was being an, apparently, incredibly obvious sub, since a fucking _perp_ managed to figure it out with a gun pointed at his head.

Rosa looked up, fixing Jake with a glare. He quickly swiveled back in his chair to face his desk.

Right. Paperwork. Responsibilities.

Fun.

Even though Jake would die of boredom if he tried it, he did envy Hitchcock and Scully a little. They did almost no paperwork, ever. Mostly because they never managed to complete cases, but still.

They were both old-school doms, still kicking around because the economy meant they couldn’t afford to retire. They didn’t treat him or Charles any differently from anyone else, mainly because they just kept forgetting that subs were allowed to be detectives in the first place.

When one of his exes had dropped by to drop off some of Jake’s stuff, Hitchcock had said to him, “Oh, yeah, relationships between two doms rarely works out. You should find a sub instead, it’ll be easier.”

“I am a sub.” Jake had replied. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of - just a part of him, same as being Jewish, or being a detective - but it always felt embarrassing to admit, as if he was letting the person he was talking to down. And then he hated himself for that feeling of anxiety, of shame, the fear of being judged. _Let them judge me_ he wanted to think, but instead it was only the _don't have them get mad, don't have them get mean, don't have them make a stupid joke_. He hated himself a little more every time he felt that rush of... tension... he always gave himself whenever he had to say his orientation aloud.

Hitchcock had just blinked, then shrugged, mumbled something incoherent about Jake’s supposed, suddenly-existing cooking skills and wandered off.

Jake wasn't sure if he should be complimented or insulted. So, he settled on a vague feeling of relief that there hadn't been a scene - not that anyone cared what Hitchcock thought anyway - and moved on.

Terry was a whole other story.

He looked like a classic dom: hard face and even harder abs, and a stern voice to match. He was actually a total softie, which was great for the most part, but when he did get upset he tended to imbue his voice with commands. He didn’t mean to, and he was noticeably making an effort, but there were a few times he had started yelling. Once, Charles had started crying, and Jake had yelled back, even as his voice shook and he fought the urge to _fix it, apologize to the angry dom, stop being_ bad _and fix it_ , to not just drop to his knees and try to make him stop being angry.

So Jake had kicked over a file case, broken a couple toes, and managed to get Terry to stop - he pretended it was because he made a good statement or something, but really it was just because Jake was obviously in pain after said kick, and Terry’s dad instincts - Jake refused to say "protective" instincts, that was a lie doms said to make themselves feel better about forcing touch on a sub after hurting them - had overridden his anger.

Holt had had a closed-door conversation with Terry after that, and then Terry was going to the precinct’s therapist. Apparently Jake's name came up a lot in those meetings, although for different reasons than his 'outburst'.

Terry still gave commands by accident, but he was more careful not to yell - he was loud, sure, but it didn’t trigger the sub instinct to appease the way he had done before. Which Jake was glad about, and Charles was absolutely over-the-moon about. Boyle's attitude around the Sarge had changed nearly overnight, and Jake found himself wondering how anyone could have ever let it slide for that long.

Of course, expecting doms to willingly change their own behavior to not traumatize a sub was a test in futility. Jake had learned that the hard way. Over, and over, and over again.

But, Terry had gained Jake’s respect because he was actually _trying_. At the 125, the excuse had always been “That’s just how we talk - if you can’t handle it, you’re not cut out for this type of job”, and other bullshit excuses so they wouldn’t have to change their behavior. And, of course, some doms in his precinct liked to try to _make_ Jake kneel for them - only one of them had ever succeeded, and it wasn’t because Jake had wanted to.

Remembering that now made him sick. Jake pushed those thoughts away quickly - he was already high-strung enough from Amy's accidental command, he didn't need to start spiraling.

Still, the 125's shitty behavior did help him get better at refusing, so it had ended up helping him in the long run - in a fucked up way-, much as he was loathe to admit it.

Charles was still a bit sensitive to commands from people he knew, and Jake’s ability to resist them was part of what had made them such fast friends: Jake made sure to have his back if anything ever went sideways. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust doms - for going out on patrol, investigations, working with his team? Sure, no problem. But when it came to commands? Not a chance. In Jake’s experience, doms didn’t always notice - or chose _not_ to notice - when other doms started getting a little too heavy-handed. Only a sub could really relate to all the subtle little nudging from a dom, because they felt it, too.

And then, of course, Gina. She was a switch, and an absolute heathen of one at that. She crushed on Terry and Beyonce, scorned the whole biological system, and suggested creating an anarchist movement, all in the same breath.

Jake loved her. She was the best sister - "ha, you _wish_ you shared my genes, Jacob" - he could ever hope to have.

She was also fiercely loyal to Jake - and Charles to a lesser extent, mainly just because Jake was - and had protected him when they were growing up. First, from his dad, who was furious that his son had tested out as a sub, and then in high school, once orientation tendencies begin to develop, and everyone else started to realize that Jake Peralta was commandable. Those were a rough few weeks, and Jake probably would've ended up in serious trouble if Gina hadn't had his back.

She had been the one to first suggest making little commands, after his dad had left him and his mom, but before he started presenting, to help him build up his ability to say no. He had agreed, and from that day on, they started this little game. She would make some stupid little “command”, every day - something which got progressively more ridiculous over the years. Nowadays, it was an inside joke, and they didn’t do it all the time - no need, anymore - but, whenever they did, it would always crack him up.

Sometimes he would indulge them afterwards - that’s where she got her wolf blanket from, Wolfie, - because he knew she actually wanted it. Not because she told him to, but because he _wanted_ to.

Sometimes the line got blurred, a strong enough command making him feel the need to do something so _desperately_ it’s almost indistinguishable from a want - but Jake was usually pretty good at sorting them out, and it was rarely an issue. Amy was the first time he'd had that lined blurred since... hm. _Not gonna think about that_ , Jake reminded himself. Geez, it was like his brain was trying to give itself a sub drop.

Sometimes Jake would purposefully disobey an order that he genuinely wanted to follow, even when it was something he was planning to do, because it was phrased just a _little_ too much like a command.

That had gotten him into some trouble over the years. But lately, he noticed he was beginning to let his wants and doms’ orders - at least when it was someone from the team, and an _order_ not a command - overlap, without feeling like he was giving in quite as much.

Jake wasn’t sure if it was progress, or if he was just slowly becoming indoctrinated.

Either way, he was wary of it.

But sometimes... Jake just got so tired of fighting. Of trying to keep not just his body his own, but to stop some dom from stealing his mind away and forcing him to get on his knees and be quiet and _Stop_.

Amy's command still rang in his head, like a persistent white noise that wasn't disruptive per se, but just enough to be continuous. _Stop._

Jake shuddered instinctually, before zipping up his hoodie, trying to play it off as from the cold. He was seriously gunning for a drop if he kept this up.

Time to focus on the paperwork, and think of nothing else.

The coffee pot was now half-empty. It was almost 5 o’clock. Jake had finished his report, and had made a sizable indent in his stack of files, when he heard a loud _bang!_ in the bullpen.

He turned before he even registered what was happening, pulling his gun.

Terry was standing, about two-thirds of the way to his desk, hands holding a now-empty bin. The bottom of it flapped aimlessly, and a - thankfully already broken - printer lay in pieces on the ground, scattered around his feet.

Everyone was in some state of alertness, save a still-sleeping Scully - eyes were on the source of the commotion.

But no one’s hands had even gone near their weapons.

Jake put his gun away hurriedly, red flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. There weren’t any perps in holding right now, it was just them.

He was too on edge.

He was tempted to blame it on Millhound, or paperwork, or whatever other excuse he could think of, but his reaction to Amy kept coming unbidden to his mind.

She had given him a command, and he’d followed it. Immediately. Hadn’t even _considered_ refusing. But that wasn’t all of it - no, his mind had gone fucking _blank_. Sure, maybe it was nothing.

But it was eerily reminiscent of subspace.

And Jake _refused_ to go there again.

Ever.

He needed to go to Shaw’s, get wasted, take a cab home - because driving drunk is dangerous - and sleep.

He’d wake up in the morning with a hangover, but none of this stupid, lingering paranoia about commands.

Maybe Charles could come with.

Actually, he’d gotten all-aboard the Amy and Jake train, so talking about this with him was probably a bad idea. Charles was a hopeless romantic - he believed in true love and how trust creates the power in commands and all this other sappy stuff - and Jake didn’t have the heart to disagree.

Hell, the guy read those romance books with the pictures of the diminutive sub and the smoking hot dom on the cover all the time.

So, maybe he _wouldn’t_ talk to Charles about it.

Terry had a pregnant wife back home, Gina had dance practice, and he obviously couldn’t talk to Amy about his feelings about… well, Amy. Rosa it was. Nonjudgemental, cool as hell, tells it straight. She always skipped the “What you felt wasn’t what they meant” gaslighting doms liked to use, and just goes directly to laying down the facts.

She was great for when Jake wanted to break shit, or when he wanted a breakdown of the data. Less so for venting.

But Jake was hopeful to avoid that - not in front of someone from the team, at least - and deal with his feelings at never o’clock in the year no thanks.

Jake got up and walked past Terry, who was squatting down to pick up various little bits of printer, to Rosa’s desk.

“Hey, Rosa. Drinks after work?” He asked, jaunty grin in place.

“Can’t. I have… a thing.”

Jake’s smile faltered. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“What is it?”

Rosa looked up to fix Jake with a glare, and he put his hands up placatingly.

“Right, right, no personal stuff. Got it.”

“Sorry, Jake.” She sounded genuinely apologetic. “How about another time?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jake nodded, before trudging back to his desk, his forced attempt to regain his high spirits gone.

“Hey, Peralta, could you grab me some paper towels?” Terry asked, “The ink is going to stain the floor.”

Jake felt a flash of anger. It wasn’t a command - it wasn’t even an order, hell, it was a fucking _request_ \- but it felt like the entire day had just been comprised of people telling him what to do. Amy’s command still itched under his skin, and Jake fluctuated wildly between wanting to rip off his own skin until it was gone, and _needing_ to sink to his knees and wait for her to tell him what to do - to give him a command.

A lot of subs did drugs for this very reason - it _hurt_ to be pulled in different directions like this, to feel that craving _need_ to obey - but Jake was not 'just' a sub. He was Jake. Fucking. Peralta.

“I’m busy doing my job.” Jake shot back, nails digging into his palms to bite back the words he wanted to say next. That he wasn’t some fucking maid, that he was a detective, same as everyone else. They wouldn’t do anyone any good, and he’d just feel bad and have to apologize for them later - or, alternatively, bottle them up and have them ‘help’ with his low self-esteem and feelings of inadequacy.

Oh, sure, he might have problems go unaddressed, but at least he knew what to call them.

Terry sat back, hands dripping neon blue and neon yellow, respectively. “Woah, Peralta, chill out. I’m just asking-”

“And I said _no!_ ” Jake cut him off, storming to his chair and throwing himself into it, pointedly swiveling it to face his desk, so he could avoid making eye contact with anyone in the bullpen. He knew he was being irrational - but to an extent, he wasn’t, either.

Every time anyone asked him to do anything, it felt like a subtle jab at his defenses. How much could they push, how hard, how subtly, to make him obey. Even when it wasn’t, it still was. Wearing him down, chipping away until he was more vulnerable than he cared to be. Normally these little things weren’t even noticeable, flying under the radar entirely, except when Jake was either 1) having a bad day, or 2) had to resist legitimate commands already.

Today was both of those things.

Jake felt his skin itching. He wondered if he should take up shame cigarettes like Amy did, just to push through.

Speaking of Amy, she quietly got up, walked to the break room and grabbed the roll of paper towels, handing them to the Sarge. As she sat back down she gave Jake a Look, and he immediately felt guilty.

Terry had only asked him because he was the one standing. Not because of his orientation.

He already knew that, of course.

But Jake was on edge, had been teetering on it for a while. It was all he could do to keep himself in place.

Getting drunk would help.

Hypothetically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more worldbuilding! I love D/s AUs, and I'm a major sucker for the worldbuilding and society stuff (as mentioned in a comment last chapter), so I loved writing Jake's implications of the larger scale stuff in this little universe.
> 
> jake: is sad  
> jake: solution! get wasted :)
> 
> pls consider comment! i am goblin for them :D


	3. Chapter 3

In hindsight, Jake thought as he walked into the crowded, dimly lit bar, maybe it would have been better for him to get wasted in the privacy of his own home. Sure, he probably would spiral and end up on the wrong end of sub drop, but at least no one would be around to see it. He needed a distraction.

Jake had barely sat down before a dom slid down next to him - tall and handsome enough, certainly. Dark hair and dark eyes - a brilliant combination. Jake felt his mood lift hopefully - maybe tonight wouldn’t end up so bad after all.

“Buy you a drink?” He asked, voice deep and an edge rough. It was hot, and he clearly knew it.

Jake went along with it. “Sure. A beer.” It looked like maybe he had found his distraction, after all.

“Two beers,” The dom held up a couple fingers to the bartender, before turning back to Jake. One arm rested on the bar, leaning in a bit, but not so much he was lower than Jake was. Heaven forbid a dom be lower than a sub, after all.

“Name’s Matt. And you are?”

He had an air of confidence that was definitely a bit much, but Jake decided to overlook it. His night was quickly shifting from one of depression and the terrifying risk of drop into something exciting. Jake decided in that moment, he was going to get laid, and, frankly, he didn’t give a fuck who did the fucking, so long as it was good.

“Jake.” He let his head drop slightly, looking up through his eyelashes to Matt - a clear message of submission, but not as demeaning or disempowering as sliding to the sticky, dirty floor. Even though he was signalling to the dom he was interested, he still had the power to get up quickly and go. Jake didn't like kneeling, much.

Matt was distinctly into his action. The smile on his face turned a touch smug.

“What say you and I head back to my place? I’ve got something a little stronger than this.” Matt gestured with his beer towards Jake, offer hanging in the air.

Jake had two options laid out in front of him.

If he said no, right now, Matt would - probably - back off. Or Jake would have to fight him off, endure some snide commentary, whatever - the usual shit that happened when a sub said no. But if he said yes… Jake could have a nice hookup and put an end to the needling desire to get railed.

Jake needed to be able to take commands from the mercy of a stranger, someone who he wouldn’t see again. It would help him relax, he knew - not reach subspace, _never_ that - but it would let him dissolve slightly, following commands and letting that itch to _obey_ go away.

Jake had done this before - mainly only when the need became so great Jake could rationalize to himself that he actually _wanted_ this - but with Amy, with today… it felt less like a want, or even a need, and more of just an… all-encompassing sort of low-level pain, radiating through his body. Not enough to impact his life, but just enough that it was a constant reminder in his mind that he was a sub.

That he had a command to follow.

That he had disobeyed.

Well. Fuck that.

Jake slammed back the rest of his drink, and then placed it onto the table, hard.

“Let’s go.”

Matt grinned, finished off his beer, threw some money onto the bar for their drinks, and stood up.

Jake followed behind Matt eagerly as the pair headed outside to Matt’s car, not bothering to even glance at the bar.

One beer in, Jake knew that they were well within the legal alcohol limit, so he didn’t hesitate to get into the passenger side of the car, strapping on his seatbelt as Matt turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive to the guy’s apartment was fast, and without much conversation between the pair except for some token flirting. It was clear this was just a mode of transportation to get to the fun stuff, so Jake didn’t make much of an effort.

The moment they were inside the apartment - nice place, actually - Matt pinned Jake against the wall, going in for a kiss.

Jake pushed back against Matt’s body - not enough to actually push him off. He could if he had to, but he generally kept that to himself unless he needed to use it.

“I don’t do subspace.” He said quickly.

Matt drew back a bit, looking surprised, and a little offended.

That was one of two standard responses. A mix of surprise and offended was the most common one, people not understanding how just following orders or having sex could _possibly_ be enjoyable for either party if there wasn’t subspace involved. The second response was pity - usually with a not-so-subtle attempt to unlock the tragic backstory.

Jake frankly preferred the offense. It was easier to get mad at and storm off if that was the case. Or get kicked out. Whatever.

But, after a moment, Matt shrugged. “If that’s what you want. Safeword?”

“Yippee-kay-yay.”

Matt’s look of begrudging acceptance turned into amusement. “Oh, you’re a _Die Hard_ guy, huh? Nice.”

“That goes both ways, you know.” Jake added carefully, “In case you want to stop.”

Matt chuckled, leaning in and kissing Jake again, hands coming up to start undoing his shirt buttons.

“I can assure you that won’t be a problem,” He said, a touch condescending.

Jake held in a sigh. Every dom he’d ever said that to had been similarly amused. There was always an assumption that the subs were the only ones ‘at risk’ in these situations. Which was generally true, actually, but that didn’t mean Jake was going to assume this was one of those ‘generally’s.

He also didn’t particularly like the implication, either, that doms would just keep going until a sub said to stop. That the burden of stopping rested solely on the sub.

One of Jake’s many, _many_ problems with subspace, actually - it was almost, if not completely, impossible to say no. It was absolute trust in someone - why partners expected it, let alone strangers, was beyond him.

But Matt’s lips were on his, and his hands were skating across his waist, so Jake let himself slip that little bit. He let Matt guide him to the bedroom, falling against the closing door as Matt tugged off their shirts, both of them kicking off their shoes and socks.

Jake reached for Matt’s belt, but Matt shook his head.

“Stop.”

Jake felt the command wash over him, let it into his mind. His hands stilled, and he looked up at Matt, waiting for the next one eagerly, feeling his heart rate pick up in anticipation. He wanted this. He _needed_ this.

“Kneel for me.” Matt commanded.

Oh. Okay. 

Jake sank to his knees with as much grace as he could muster. He hated the fact that he liked kneeling so much - it felt like a failure on his part, some kind of acceptance of his supposed inferiority - but it was nice. Matt could judge him, Jake didn't care. He'd never see him after tonight.

“Good.”

That one affirmation. It wasn’t like Jake was even in subspace or anything close to that - far from it. But it felt good - really, really good. Jake's breath hitched at the word, and Matt evidently picked up on that, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Wow, got a bit of a praise kink, huh?" He asked.

Jake felt himself flush from the comment, a bit embarrassed he was able to be marked out so effectively.

“I only give praise when subs do a good job, though.” Matt added cheekily, reaching down to ruffle Jake’s hair. “So make sure you do.” A pause, “Now you can take it off.”

Jake’s fingers came alive again, quickly shucking off Matt’s pants and boxers. His hands twitched towards his own, but didn’t move them. He hadn’t been told to, yet.

Matt’s hand was still in his hair, and it nudged him towards his dick. It was decently sized, nothing special but certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Jake could feel his own responding to the sight.

He looked up at Matt. “Could you,” He licked his lips, “Could you command me to?”

Matt’s eyebrows raised even higher. Jake knew it was weird - that _he_ was weird - needing to hear the orders, _and_ wanting to be praised for following them? He was a needy fuck, that was for sure. Just another reason to avoid subbing until he actually needed to. Or wanted to - although that was always a hard pill to swallow. He could never sub without feeling like he was giving in.

That was part of why it was so important for this to be happening with a stranger. They could judge if they wanted, but he’d never have to hear about it - or worse, have anyone he knows hear about it.

Matt patted Jake’s head lightly, condescension in his tone. “Make it a request I’d want to indulge.”

“Please command me to, sir.” Jake didn’t particularly care for begging - it reminded him of how he didn’t deserve whatever it was happening to him, that he didn’t really have a say in what Matt chose to do to him. It felt a little too much like he was debasing himself.

That being said, Matt _was_ indulging Jake in his own needs, so he couldn’t really throw stones or get upset. If he did, this night was as good as over, and Jake _needed_ to hear those commands, that praise. To be offered that physical comfort.

Matt smiled. “Good job.”

Jake felt another shot of pleasure course through him at that praise.

Then the hand was back in his hair, and the voice hard with a command.

“Suck.”

And Jake was very, very happy to obey.

He leaned forward, trailing sloppy kisses up Matt’s inner thigh, then the other, each time stopping just before making contact. Then, he ran those same kisses up his cock, going painstakingly slow.

Let it be known that Jake Peralta is a goddamn tease.

Finally, he licked his lips one more time, before wrapping them around the tip. He ran his tongue over it, trying not to grin as he heard Matt moan somewhere above him. His hand tightened in Jake’s hair, and was definitely trying to get him to hurry.

Jake rolled his eyes. Doms - they were always in such a rush. He slid his mouth down Matt’s cock, inch by inch, making sure that his gag reflex wasn’t going to go off on him. Some doms thought it was hot - like a compliment on their size or whatever - but Jake didn’t like the whole ‘involuntary reaction’ thing very much - not to mention it was uncomfortable as hell -, and took pains not to cause a reflex.

Matt, for his part, didn’t thrust into Jake’s mouth. His hand on Jake’s head was more of a reminder, less of an actual restraining force.

Some doms liked the power of having a sub do everything - fuck themselves on the dom’s cock for them, that sort of thing - and others liked subs being absolutely helpless - restrained, completely at mercy.

Jake always had a bit of a conundrum on that front. On the one hand, being restrained and helpless was hot as hell, and he was a big fan. On the other, he hated the idea of having to trust someone else that much, to have that much belief that they wouldn’t hurt him - with the first option, he could always escape. He didn't have to trust the other person, didn't have to give up control of himself.

So Jake was simultaneously disappointed and relieved at the realization that Matt was one of the former. He wanted to have a sub service him, stare up at him in wonderment and beg for sex.

Well, Jake could live with that. Not like he was going to put a stop to this, just because of something so insignificant.

Jake reached up with one hand hesitantly, not wanting to be scolded for using more than just his mouth, but Matt moaned again when his hand came up to fondle his balls, so Jake considered that a win. Gaining confidence now that he had his bearings, Jake really started to get to work. He kept his lips around the shaft while moving up and down it, letting his tongue roam around aimlessly as he did so, hand still pressing feather-light touches along his balls and down his thighs.

“God, fuck, you’re…” Matt’s next words turned into another moan, and then he was pulling back on Jake’s hair, away from his body.

Jake pulled back tantalizingly slowly, lips coming off of Matt’s cock with a pop.

“Yes, Sir?” He asked sweetly, licking his lips, the salty taste of precum spreading across his tongue.

“Take off your clothes, and get on the bed.” Matt panted, “You were gonna end me right there and then.”

 _Finally,_ they were getting somewhere. Jake wanted some nice sex to forget about… Jake could vaguely remember he was trying to get over something, but he would have to concentrate thinking to recall it - and he didn’t want to lose the moment. Jake banished it from his mind, instead focusing on the command.

Jake quickly peeled out of his clothes, practically jumping into the bed in his haste.

Seeing his eagerness, the dom grinned, striding to the bedside table and pulling out some basic supplies.

“You’re an excited one, huh?” He asked, voice amused as he held out the condom to Jake.

“Put it on me.”

Jake opened the package, pulling it out and positioning it over the tip of his dick. Then, he slowly unrolled it, following his fingers with his mouth, tracing over the area newly covered with latex with every motion. When he got to the base, he pulled back, tossing the now-empty wrapper onto the top of the table.

“We gonna get this party started, or what?” Jake asked, sliding back across the bed.

“Cheeky sub.” Matt replied, getting onto the bed and straddling Jake’s thighs. He lifted up the rope from his drawer. “Are you going to be okay with this?” He asked casually, even as he already took up Jake’s hands.

Jake, in response, crossed his wrists in front of him, not so much permission to proceed as an acceptance of the action that was already occurring. He did _really_ enjoy bondage, but it irked him that Matt had assumed - Jake pushed that aside. He wanted to have a good night, not get all worked up and lose the pleasant buzzing in his head.

Matt did a quick tie around Jake’s wrists, and then another one to the bedboard above his head. Jake tugged experimentally on it. Definitely enough to keep him in place, but he knew the knot in question - he could undo it if he had to in about 12 seconds - in case anything went sideways. It burned pleasantly on his skin as he pulled, and Jake wrapped his hands around the ropes, giving him something to hold onto as Matt spread open his legs, nestling between them with a now lube-coated, condom-covered cock.

Safety first, after all.

Matt slid one finger in, and Jake took a breath, then forced himself to relax. It wasn’t hard - heh, hard - per se, since he was already in that pleasant buzzing zone when he followed commands, but it wasn’t automatic.

Matt added a second, then a third. It was quite businesslike, and Jake craved more. But he’d already asked him to hurry once, and Matt hadn’t exactly done so. He didn’t want to cause Matt to become upset with him, so he remained silent, gritting his teeth at the painful-pleasant burn as a fourth finger was added.

Then they were gone, and Jake breathed a sigh of relief because that meant that finally, _finally_ he could get railed.

Sure enough, the burning sensation returned, as Matt pushed his cock in, Jake’s hands clenching tighter around the bindings as he reminded himself to relax.

Once Matt was fully sheathed, he started moving, thrusting with a clear purpose - to find the spot that would make Jake-

“Hgh!” Jake felt himself jolt as Matt brushed against his prostate. The dom’s look of concentration split into a self-satisfied grin, and then he shifted, setting a new rhythm that hit Jake in the perfect spot each time. The pain-pleasure quickly faded into nothing but pleasure, and it was _really_ pleasurable.

Jake moaned, hips bucking. His own cock was pulsing with need, and the ropes dug into Jake’s wrists as he pushed himself down onto the cock inside him as best he could, craving _more_.

One of Matt’s hands, the one not supporting his weight, came up to push down on Jake’s hip, fingers purposefully splayed exactly around so that they were _almost_ brushing his cock, but not quite..

Jake practically keened at that, throwing his head back to avoid looking at what was going on and getting even hornier.

He pushed himself down further, Matt clearly enjoying how needy - how _desperate_ \- Jake was being. If Jake hadn't had his head full of pleasant buzzing, he would have been embarrassed about it. Or even tried to make himself stop doing it.

Not that he wanted this to stop.

He could feel Matt’s rhythm start to speed up a bit, his moaning getting louder, then stutter, and then, eventually, stop entirely.

He let his cock sit inside Jake for a moment, before pulling out, ignoring the whining cry from the uncompleted sub.

Matt pulled off and tied the end of the condom, putting it into a bin by the bed with that same businesslike air. Jake was bursting with the need to get off, hands twitching in the ropes holding them still, wanting nothing more than to have the dom finish the job.

The dom, who was currently still perched between Jake’s legs. Not done, but waiting.

Oh. Right. Begging. Jake grimaced, then steeled himself to do it.

“Please,” Jake begged, squeezing his legs together slightly to offer touch to the dom, “Please finish me, Sir.”

Matt moved his hand on Jake’s hip to trace down his inner thigh, touch firm. Jake could feel his muscles jumping, hypersensitive, at the contact.

“I don’t know,” Matt wheedled, “I’m not sure you’ve earned it.”

Jake pulled on his restraints. “ _Please_ , Sir.” The edge of desperation to his tone overshadowed Matt’s ‘reservations’, which were more for a power play than anything else, Jake knew, and swayed the dom.

“I suppose, you have been a very good sub.”

Jake felt himself flush - spreading across his chest and up his neck - from the praise. A recurring trait of his, he knew.

“Thank you, Sir.” Jake said quickly, as Matt brought his hand, which had been tracing circles on Jake’s inner thigh, down to press back inside, feeling for that same spot as before. The other hand came up to encircle Jake’s cock, beginning a slow pumping motion as he searched for Jake’s prostate with wandering fingers.

When he did find it, Jake bucked up into his hand, another moan bursting from somewhere in his throat. Matt began stroking it in tandem with Jake’s cock, watching as Jake slowly came undone beneath him.

Jake gasped for breath as the pleasure kept building inside him, feeling himself get closer and closer to the edge.

Then, Matt’s thumb stroked over his tip as his fingers pushed against his prostate, and Jake came with a breathy moan, thrusting into Matt’s hand.

While Jake was coming down from the high, Matt pulled his fingers out, stepping out from between his legs and next to him instead, untying his wrists and letting them down. Jake flexed his fingers, relishing in the redness that was sure to become bruising later looping its way around his wrists.

Matt tossed a hand towel onto Jake’s chest, and Jake gratefully cleaned off the quickly-drying cum from his stomach. Matt laid down beside him, pulling him against his body. One hand rubbed Jake’s shoulder, the other one wrapped around his chest to pull him back into a spooning cuddle. It was the classic drop-prevention pose.

Number one prevention of sub drop was to make sure there’s physical contact after sex, or a scene, or heavy commands, all that good stuff. It was considered a crime to purposefully let a sub drop - it’s an incredibly traumatic experience, and some doms would use it, or threats of it, as punishment. Once it was possible to get a divorce on the basis of malignant sub drop, the rates of divorce by subs nearly doubled. Of course, the rates of hospitalization for sub drop dropped by 70%, a major win for sub rights everywhere.

And a rather depressing factoid, too, about how some doms treated their supposedly loved subs. Most doms didn't even consider sub drop to be all that bad - just a standard punishment for things. Or even a game to play. Public perception had really only been changing on it over the past few years or so, mainly due to a lot of campaigning and celebrity pushback. But still, a lot of subs were getting hurt, and there was no reason for it.

Matt went through the motions of aftercare - contact, in the form of touch on his upper body, which had been largely ignored during sex, some murmured “Good, you did good, god job, good sub,” intermittently muttered into his ear, the blanket underneath them for in case Jake got cold - a strange, but extremely common occurence for subs, in which their temperature can drop suddenly.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Jake felt himself begin to shiver, and Matt leaned over, pulling the blanket up to cover Jake’s body.

Jake was still on that buzzing high, relishing the way he could feel every single loose fiber of the blanket, how the raw skin at his wrists gently throbbed in tandem with his heartbeat.

It felt _good_.

He really should do this more often.

Jake knew that was the sub in him talking, wanting to stay in this fuzzy space forever. But he knew better - this was a dalliance, he wasn’t going to do this again until he was going to crash. Stave it off, because if he enjoyed it too much he might begin to slide further and further down into subspace, until one day he just… was.

Jake shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold.

He wasn’t going to think about anything except warmth, and how good his body felt, and the praise that Matt was offering.

Those were all that mattered right now.

The rest could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This end note is long, but _please_ read it! This is important to me.
> 
> This scene was technically consenting, but there were quite a few problems with it on the whole - they didn't communicate much, discuss boundaries, etc. As you could tell, Jake was doing things he wasn't entirely comfortable with because he didn't feel it "warranted" stopping/was afraid asking to stop would end the night, etc.
> 
> This is supposed to show how Jake views his own sexuality - very much a 'only do this when i absolutely have to' which in and of itself isn't exactly consensual - as well as how regard for subs in this world is in a sort of condescending manner. Jake doesn't value himself enough to really fight for getting good treatment, as well as he doesn't think that doms are really capable of it in the first place.
> 
> Please don't think this is a healthy representation of sex in this fic/verse. This is supposed to show how Jake thinks it's 'okay' but not really, and will be juxtaposed with worse, and with better, consent and respect than shown in this chapter. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you like this fic so far, or if you have any questions about elements of this chapter. I don't want there to be any confusion about this chapter's consent elements.
> 
> ALSO hehe check it out i have 9999 words on this fic right now :D


	4. Chapter 4

Jake strolled into the precinct the next morning, trademark grin in place, cups of coffee in hand for the team. His body had that vaguely euphoric feeling that tended to come after following commands, and he placed drinks down on each team members’ desk, humming the _Speed_ score as he did.

Charles was, of course, the first - and hopefully only - one to pick up on it. He practically cornered Jake in the kitchen, saying that he could, quote “see the glow, Jakey!”

Jake had smiled despite himself - normally he wouldn’t be caught dead _enjoying_ subbing, but with Charles, he couldn’t hide it. Pretend not to like it, or not need it. They both knew how it felt, and, with Charles looking so excited, Jake obligingly glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then raised the edge of his sleeve enough to show the light purple bruising encircling his wrist, biting his bottom lip to try to hide the sheepish, self-satisfied grin spreading over his face.

Charles had whooped, then high-fived Jake, unabashed in his own happiness. Happiness for Jake.

Jake understood why, of course - subbing _was_ fun, _was_ exciting. But it was also not something he wanted to have to admit to having fun, or being excited about.

Still, it was nice, having Charles so pumped up for him. It made Jake feel better. Just being around another sub, knowing, made it feel… good. Jake wasn’t a voyeur in any sense, so he didn’t know why it worked like that when it came to sub-sub interactions, but it just... did. Just, in general, subs were drawn to each other, liked to share with one another. Not that Jake would ever admit to liking that, either. Supposedly doms were the same, but Jake wasn't sure if their bragging was borne out of the same need, or just plain arrogance.

Amy probably knew whatever science or biology there was behind subs having that response, and whether or not doms were the same, but he didn’t want to ask her - he’d have to explain why, and the fact that Jake Peralta likes to get tied up wasn’t something he wanted on his reputation.

Part of the appeal of strangers, after all.

Jake continued humming to himself as he sat down at his own desk, swiveling to flash a grin at Amy, who looked up, surprised.

“You’re on time.” She said, slight confusion coloring her tone.

“No need to act so shocked, Santiago. I do know how to be an adult.” Jake grinned back, voice light and full of banter - yesterday’s tensions absolutely gone. He felt completely, absolutely stress-free. All with a lingering hint of that pleasant buzzing, inviting him to relax a little. Breathe a little easier. It was wonderful.

Jake knew there were plenty of drugs that could recreate the feeling - including a new one just hitting the streets - and he was forever grateful that he had never tried it. This sort of joy could be addicting.

“First time for everything.” She replied, that edge of confusion still buried in her voice, but being mostly overshadowed by her smug banter.

Mostly.

Jake’s smile didn’t twitch. He was in too good of a mood to react poorly to her odd emotions, taking them in stride.

“Who knows? Maybe next I’ll start _laminating_.”

“Don’t you dare touch my laminator!” Amy gasped in horror, reaching out and placing one hand protectively over the machine, which sat next to her computer.

“Why is it on your desk?” Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re that attached to it?”

“I’m the only one who uses it!” Amy replied defensively, before looking a bit embarrassed, adding, after a moment of silence, “Everyone else was using it wrong, anyway.”

“Uh huh.” Jake’s grin spread even further, and Amy rolled her eyes at him, opening her mouth to speak, but then Terry interrupted.

“Briefing room, five minutes.”

“Ooh, new cases!” Jake perked up, "I’ve already finished all of mine. Help, Amy, I’m dying of boredom. The only cure… is letting me have the next fun murder case.”

“No, Jake. It’s my turn to be assigned to the murders; assuming there even is one, for the record, which there might not even be!”

“New York.”

“Okay, fine," She acquiesced, "But I still get the case. That’s the rule.”

“You can’t break it? For me?” Jake jokingly tilted his head down slightly and looked up at her, batting his eyelashes.

Amy swallowed hard, breaking eye contact with him. “Break rules? I wouldn’t do that for my own parents, let alone you, Peralta.”

Jake sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in mock hurt. “Wow, I feel betrayed. Absolutely _betrayed_."

Amy opened her mouth, about to say… something, before cutting herself off, and instead just saying, generically, “Too bad.”

Jake frowned slightly. That wasn’t what she had been going to say, he knew - her eyes had twitched the way it always did when she was she was backtracking, or trying not to say something she wanted to.

It was interesting, because she normally would just end up saying whatever it was she wanted to. She was Amy Santiago, after all. But this time, she let the silence hang in the air, reverting her gaze away from Jake’s and to the computer, saving a few files before standing up, the cup of coffee Jake had gotten for her in her hand.

She took a sip, and nodded appreciatively. "Damn, that's good." She muttered, practically chugging from it. Jake felt a swell of pride, which he didn't shove back down immediately, for once - it was just leftovers from his subbing the night before, after all.

“Briefing room?” She asked, oblivious to his reaction.

“Yep.” Jake stood up as well, cutting in front of her so he wasn’t _walking behind_ her, taking a seat at his normal place once inside.

The others trailed in a few moments later, followed by Terry, and, finally, Holt.

“There are two new major cases.” Holt began without preamble, “A suspected homicide, and an vandalism case. Peralta, you and Boyle take the homicide. Santiago, Diaz, you’re on the assault.”

“What?” Amy shot out, before covering her mouth, looking up at Holt with wide eyes.

Holt raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, sir, but… well,” Amy looked like she was bolstering courage, “I was supposed to be assigned to the next homicide.”

“Interesting. I failed to read about that regulation in the precinct handbook. Perhaps you could point it out to me?”

Amy deflated, sitting back in her chair. “No, Captain. I’ll take the vandalism case.”

“Good. It’s your job.”

Jake turned to Amy, eyebrows raised. “Wow, he’s really pissed at you today. What happened? I thought you two were… bonding or whatever.”

Amy looked away, pointedly not responding. Probably because of how he got the case. Jake did, actually, feel bad about that - it was _technically_ Amy’s turn.

But Holt wasn’t budging, and Jake was happy enough to take the murder case that he didn’t complain. Not in front of Amy, anyway.

About ten minutes into work, Jake sauntered into the Captain’s office, knocking on the door as he entered, and closing it behind him.

Holt looked up from some papers on his desk. “Peralta.”

“Hey, Captain, I just wanted to ask you something.” Jake said, glancing out the window. Amy was looking at him, and he closed the blinds - she could read lips, after all.

“Is there a reason you are renovating my office?” Holt asked dryly, even as he sat back in his chair to pay attention.

“Yeah, actually.” Jake switched from foot to foot, hesitating, before saying, “Look, why’d you give me the case? We both know it belongs to Amy.”

“Nothing belongs to anyone, here.” Holt said brusquely. "Everything is owned by the state."

“Well, yeah, I guess, but… you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“Then why’d you give me the case?”

“I read your reports on Millhound. Santiago was the arresting officer, correct?”

“Yeah,” Jake replied slowly. “Why?”

“I read your report - it said that Millhound attempted to command you?”

“Yep.” Jake nodded stiffly, still not sure where this was going but not entirely liking it. Even though Holt had never questioned his capabilities on the basis of his orientation, Jake could never quite shake that itching concern in the back of his head. That maybe this time, this time it would be different. That this time it would matter.

“However," Holt continued, "I then read Santiago’s report. I came across, interestingly, a section in her report that indicated she had in fact _also_ commanded you after his arrest, which I found lacking in your own file.”

“Oh, um, well, it wasn’t a big deal-” Jake began, thrown off by the questioning.

“Yes, it is." Holt cut in. "Santiago recommended that I suspend her without pay for abusing her influence as a dom on a police officer.”

“Oh.” Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s unreasonable-”

“Yes, it is. Since your file didn’t mention it, I wouldn’t be able to. She was somewhat surprised when I said that she would not be suspended, which led me to believe you chose to omit that information of your own accord. Did you?”

Jake grinned tightly, “Yeah, well, it wasn’t like she did it on purpose. I was annoying her, so she just reacted. It’s-”

“Unacceptable, yes.” Holt interrupted once more, “Regardless, she has been suspended from all felony cases pending the same amount of time she would have been suspended instead.”

“Then why was she so upset not to get the murder case?”

“I believe she wanted to avoid drawing suspicion. In fact, I am surprised she was able to fool you at all.” Holt's tone was mildly incredulous.

“Right…” Jake glanced towards where Amy would be sitting through the closed blinds, then back at Holt. “So I’m guessing you won’t just let me give her the murder case?”

“Why would you do that? You have the arrest competition. Felonies only. It would not make sense for you to sabotage yourself.”

“Yeah, well,” Jake felt his fingers tapping on his thigh, “I don’t want her to hold it against me. I’m in a sort of… unsteady situation. One recommendation from a team member about it being hard to work with me ‘cause I’m a sub would have me transferred out to… Ridgedale or whatever it was Rosa was complaining about, in a heartbeat. I can’t risk that.” Not that Jake thought Amy would do something like that. Just that he could never be 100% certain. Despite everything they've done and all their friendship, at the end of the day, she was still a dom. And most doms didn't exactly like to be outdone by a sub, especially not ones as competitive as she was.

Holt’s mouth twitched minutely towards a frown. “I do not believe Santiago would report you for taking one case.”

“I’ve already had one freak-out this week, with the printer. I can’t afford a second one. Please, Captain, just give the case to Santiago. I don’t want to cause waves.” Jake asked, feeling the optimism from the previous night slowly ebb away, the pleasant buzzing fading away into the normal Jake-Peralta-thoughts.

“My entire existence as Captain ‘made waves’. My becoming a detective ‘made waves’. Everything I’ve ever done has ‘made waves’, Peralta, and you need to learn how to deal with that." Holt paused, before adding, "Otherwise, I fail to see how you managed to make detective in the first place.”

Jake swallowed, the criticism hitting him harder than he cared to admit. “Yeah, yeah, got it. I’ll… do the case. Find a murderer. Cool, cool cool, cool. Cool. No doubt. No doubt.”

Jake left the office, walking back to his desk and sitting down, keeping his eyes anywhere except on Amy.

“What was that about?” Amy asked, sipping from the coffee - that he had gotten for her - confusion on her face.

“Amy, did you put… that you had, you know,” Jake made a face, “In your report on Millhound?”

Amy nodded immediately, placing down the cup as her face morphed immediately into a mix of professionalism and apology. “Of course. I made a critical mistake, it’s unacceptable of me to-”

“Why?" It was Jake's turn to interrupt, now. "I mean, you could’ve just… not. It’s not like you would’ve gotten in trouble for it. Besides, people throw commands around all the time. It’s not like you’d be the first partner to do it.”

Oops, too real. Jake wanted to backtrack, but Amy spoke before he had the chance.

“I don’t care. Just because I _can_ get away with abusing my command doesn’t mean I _should_. And you shouldn’t accept it from anyone… that you don’t want to, of course.” She added after a beat.

“Holt’s taking you off of felonies for a bit, he said.” Jake frowned.

“Yeah. I know.” Amy shrugged, flipping open her file. “I’m actually surprised he let me stay at all. I expected him to be a lot harsher.”

“He couldn’t.” Jake said. Amy looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing.

“What do you mean?” She asked quickly. He could practically see her running through the regulations in her head, trying to puzzle it out.

“I didn’t put it in my report, so there was no actual complaint filed.”

“What?” Amy asked loudly, a couple of beat cops glancing their way. She lowered her voice, leaning forward over her desk with an edge of urgency. “Why didn’t you? God, Jake, I _commanded_ you! And you…” She trailed off, but he understood the implication.

She had commanded him, sure, but he had _obeyed._ That made it a whole other level of wrongness. Of violation.

“Don’t worry about it, Amy. It wasn’t important.” The _I’ve had worse_ hung in the air, unspoken but fully understood just the same.

Amy looked sad. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Jake.” Then she turned back to her case file. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find the absolute madman who’s graffiti-ing boobs all over suburban houses.

“What? You get boobs? Oh, so not fair.” Jake grumbled, opening his own file to the sight of a dude who definitely didn’t shoot himself in the back of the head four times.

Back to work it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some Holt and Boyle! excite :)
> 
> i am what is known as a comment gremlin, pls consider <3


	5. Chapter 5

Time went on, and the urge to submit faded away into the back of Jake’s mind - it wasn’t something that ever truly went away, but it was as irrelevant as it really could be - and perps hadn’t made him so far.

They only tended to catch on when he was a mess, anyway.

Jake was bored out of his mind, tapping away at his desk.

So when the phone rang, Jake was eager to snatch it up, answering on the second ring. “Hello, Detective Peralta here.”

After a brief conversation, Jake put the phone back down onto the receiver. His boredom had vanished - instead, a heavy weight settled on his chest.

“Charles, with me.” Jake said, standing up.

Charles got up as well, “Jake, what’s going on?”

“Sal’s burned down. That place is an institution, and the best pizza place in Brooklyn!”

“Actually, it’s eighth-” Charles began talking animatedly about mouth-feel, while Jake grabbed his jacket, heading for the elevator.

When they pulled up to Sal’s, Jake cursed.

“The firefighters are here.”

“Well, it was a _fire_ ,” Charles reasoned, even as his face fell at the sight of the firetrucks parked haphazardly across the street.

As the two approached, Fire Marshall Boone strode towards them, arrogance oozing out of his body.

Jake felt Boyle tense near him, and took a half-step forward, putting on the swagger.

“Hey, Boone, what are you doing here, ya nimrod?” Jake asked.

“Uh, there was a fire.” Boone replied, ‘The better question is what are you doing here? Did someone call in a missing donut?”

“Uh, actually, someone called us and said they couldn’t find your head. But, looks like we did - it was up your ass. You’re a firefigher, you should know how to take care of that burn.”

Jake held up his hand, and Chalres high-fived it eagerly, taking up the confidence cues from Jake.

“Well, joke’s on you. Because this was a fire, so it’s fire department jurisdiction. So why don’t you back off, and let New York’s _Bravest_ handle it.”

“They only call you that because New York’s Best at spraying stuf with water was too wordy.”

“Well, it’s too bad we can’t all be New York’s Finest.” Boone replied back, “After all, we don’t have such a… diverse stock like you all do. It’s too bad firefighters still aren’t letting in subs.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, dude? You’re bringing-”

“Hey, Joke Peralta, I told you, it’s too bad we don’t. Tragic, really.” Boone smiled smugly. “I’m always saying we could use some subs in our department, but, well, we just can’t seem to convince the guys up top that they’d serve a function other than a distraction. Clearly not a problem for the NYPD, though. ‘Cause neither of you would qualify for that.”

Jake’s jaw set. Boone’s voice was falsely kind, taking on the passive-aggressive edge that he was so very skilled at.

Boone was a staunch opposer of sub-integration into fire departments. His campaigning and political schmoozing was one of the key reasons why there _weren’t_ any subs in most of New York.

“Well, look, we heard this might be arson, so we need to investigate.” Jake said, electing to ignore the exchange of barbs, and get to the point.

“No, no, I’m not letting you onto my crime scene.” Boone made a gesturing motion with his hand, and then strode away.

Jake turned to Charles. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Charles was quiet, until they got into the car - when he got uncomfrotable, he tended to talk a lot. When he got upset, he went quiet.

“Boone doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’d make a great distraction, Jake.” Charles said, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“Thanks, Charles.” Jake said, forcing a smile.

They both knew it was fake - but what could they possibly say to each other that would be new? It was the same shit different day, after all. Boone was just one of the many. And everything he’d said, they’d heard already.

It was beyond even getting upset at it anymore. Now, it was just moving on, and pretending that, even though the words have been said a million times, they don’t still burrow in, just a bit.

After a brief stint of standing around aimlessly, listening to Charles describe “mouth-feel”, Charles cut himself off.

“Uh-oh, Jake. Firemen.” He said, excited grin fading.

Jake turned around. “What are you two doing here?”

“You’re a detective. You detect it out.” One of them said.

“Good one bro.” “Thanks bro.” “No problem, bro.”

“Boone reconsidered. He wants you to take a look at the files.” The firefighter handed Jake a file.

“Well, that’s unexpected, Jake said, turning to Charles. “Allright, fine, I’ll-” Jake opened the file, looked down, and froze.

His slightly confused expression turned hard, his uncomfortable smile turning into a twisted frown. His hands clenched around the file’s edges, and he couldn’t bring himself to blink. He saw Charles look over the edge of the file, and could tell he was thrown as well - more offended than feeling the sudden crushing weight of a gavel on his shoulders.

Inside the file folder was a collar.

It was a cheap collar - couldn’t have cost more than a few bucks. One of those cute pink ones that they sell at the dollar store like friendship bracelets and stuff like that.

Jake hated collars.

Charles had worn one, for a while, when he was still with his now-ex-wife Eleanor. Jake had been genuinely happy for him - Charles was so excited, he practically swooned every time he felt it, or noticed it - but then when they had broken it off, Charles had to give it back.

Then, he had dropped.

So badly, in fact, that Terry had to intervene - Jake had tried to help, but it had almost triggered a drop for him, and he’d run off, gotten _way_ to drunk, and let some stranger ride him just so that they’d hold him afterwards.

It was terrible - Jake felt disgusting, afterwards, and found himself picking at his skin for hours, but it had stopped a drop so _it was worth it, it was worth it_. Dropping hurt. It was disorienting, could even be dangerous - subs could forget what they were doing, some would accidentally hurt themselves, and some doms… well, some got a kick out of making subs miserable.

It was a crime, to purposefully cause a sub drop. Number one method of spousal abuse was sub drop, but it was also a power method. Have a sub in drop, they’d do anything to please a dom. It was a bit like subspace, except instead of trust it’s based on fear, and instead of the warm fuzzies it’s just rocking, bone-deep _terror_ that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere and build up on itself into a spiraling panic.

Jake knew that collars themselves weren’t a bad thing - the vast majority of subs liked wearing them, liked to feel it and have it on them. It’s also an effective tool at stopping assault - doms don’t respect the sub, but they’ll respect some unknown dom’s property.

And that was one of the many reasons why Jake hated collars. It’s great when he wants to be left alone, because it means off-limits to others. It’s a form of protection, sure. But it’s also a sign that he’s property - that he’s _owned_. Not to mention, it sends the signal that he _is_ a sub, something he’s gotten pretty good at not showing - at least, he’d like to believe that to be the case.

When he did wear a collar… man, he couldn’t believe he’d ever agreed to that. Thinking about it know sent a shudder up his spine. When he did, people would talk to his dom instead of him, talked _about_ him rather than to him… it made him feel like he was less than. Like he was a pet, or an object that was owned, rather than a person who willingly entered a relationship.

People seemed to forget that subs _choose_ to put on the collar, sometimes. Or, more accurately, that once it’s on, that the sub still has the power to leave the relationship.

Jake was proof that that was the case.

But now here he was, staring at this collar in a file folder, beyond floored.

He didn’t think Boone would do something this egregious.

But, no matter how many times it was shown to him, beaten into him over and over _and over_ , Jake always seemed to forget the cruelty of doms.

“Ha! It’s not a file, bro, it’s a collar! ‘Cause you’re prisses!” The firefighter chuckled.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” Jake stumbled out a comeback, fully aware that it made no sense but unable to think of a response. The sight of the collar had gotten under his skin in a way that was a bit too visceral to be shrugged off.

The firefighters just chortled, and left.

“I don’t care if it’s not our jursidiction. We’re solving that case!” Jake said, turning to Charles and forcing his hand to snap the case closed.

Scully stood up. “Hey, Jake, I’ll file that case for you.”

Jake frowned, and went to speak, but Scully just shook his head.

“Kelly’d love it. She likes pink.”

 _Dog or wife?_ Charles mouthed over Scully’s shoulder, and Jake handed over the file eagerly.

Jake shrugged, then crossed his arms, letting out a sigh.

Charles was looking at Jake with an uncomfortable amount of concern.

He didn’t know _exactly_ why collars bothered Jake so much, but it didn’t take a detective to figure it out. Most battered subs had triggers with aspects of sub culture - while collars wasn’t normally one of those things, things like a specific position or phrase being the overwhelming majority of situations - it wasn’t much of a stretch.

Not to mention that Charles knew that there had been some sort of bad dom in Jake’s past. He didn’t try to hide the fact - he didn’t conceal the truth, people just didn’t ask, except for Charles - and had talked, very briefly, about it during a stakeout.

Jake had explained that a partner of his would manipulate him and try to mess with his head - Jake never went into _how_ , he didn’t want anyone to realize how fucked up he really was - and Charles had been understanding, and hadn’t pushed the issue.

Beyond asking who it was, and if Jake had filed a case or anything - Jake had explained that it wasn’t possible because of the circumstances, and Charles had just nodded sadly.

Sometimes, Jake worried about Charles. He was a lot more in-touch with his subness - in the sense that Jake constantly warred with himself about it and actively tried to suppress it in himself (which, okay, was probably a form of internalized orientationalism or at the very least some serious self-hatred, but, well, semantics) - but Charles seemed so much more vulnerable to the abuses that could come with being a sub.

Jake saw what happened to him after his ex-wife left him. But the difference was that Charles bounced back.

Jake _couldn’t_.

So instead of seeing a shrink, or maybe just trying to self-reflect for once in his life - that was sure to cause a self-panic -, Jake called up Sal, and asked him to come by the precinct.

Which was why he was sitting at his desk now, with Sal - one of his favorite people - sitting across from him.

“I can’t believe it’s gone, Jakey. All of it. The wood-fire oven. The first dollar bill I ever made. The 7-Up fridge.” He covered his mouth, voice choking up.

“Hey, it’s all right. You’ll rebuild.”

“The firefighters have been asking a lot of questions. They think I torched my own place.”

Jake saw Charles turn around in the periphery of his vision.

“You know I wouldn’t do that, don’t you, Jakey?” Sal asked worriedly.

“Yeah, of course.” Jake replied immediately, fingers beginning to tap on his badge - he had taken off his tie after seeing the collar - and looking at Sal concernedly.

He adored Sal - truly. He was a big, happy Italian dom, and he who would let Jake sit at one of the booths, even when he was too broke to buy a slice, after his dad had left. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Jakey,” Sal had said, hand patting him on the shoulder kindly, “You’re a good kid, don’t think he can make you feel otherwise.” - it was the first time someone, other than Gina, hadn’t been disappointed when they discovered his orientation.

“We’re going to solve this for you Sal.” Jake said firmly.

Sal smiled warmly. “Thank you, Jakey. I know you’ll do it.”

Jake smiled back as he grabbed his jacket, exchanging a few words with Charles. Sal was a good guy - he never thought that Jake wouldn’t make the Academy. When he had gotten accepted, Sal had patted him on the back, told him he was proud, and that, if Jake ever needed another job - “In this economy, Jakey, you’d be lucky to only have to work two!” - he always had one at Sal’s.

Charles began distracting the two firefighters in front of the burned-down Sal’s with a story about his son’s cat, Jake snuck in through the side door.

Only to be met with Boone.

“Gah!” Jake slammed down his flashlight, grateful that NYPD-grade flashlights could actually withstand the force of hitting the ground.

Boone lectured Jake about how clearly Sal did it, while the two firefighters and Charles entered through the main doors.

“Peralta has screwed with me for the last time! And now, you’re gonna pay.”

“Oh, anytime,” Jake ran his hand through his hair, “Anytime you wanna g-”

Boone punched Jake in the gut.

“Well,” Jake choked, “That escalated quic-”

Then Boone’s arms were on Jake, and he was getting tackled to the floor.

Jake was vaguely aware that Charles was getting ganged up on by two firefighters - totally not cool - but Boone was on top of Jake and he felt his body freeze for a second, before his adrenaline shot through the roof.

_No._

Jake fought back hard - kicking and scratching, eventually the pair rolling out into the street, Charles stumbling out after them and grabbing the back of Boone’s shirt, trying to haul him off of Jake, who could feel his heart rate spiking higher and higher with each passing second of Boone’s body against his.

_No._

Jake heard the sound of fighting - more voices now. He looked up, but all he saw were doms screaming and hitting each other, and Charles still pulling at Boone’s shirt, trying - and failing - to get him off of Jake.

Finally, the amount of cops outweighed the amount of firefighters, and the fight got broken up. Jake shoved Boone off of him, getting up and leaning against the wall of Sal’s, breathing hard. His muscles were tensed, and his hands were trembling, just a bit.

“You okay, Jake?” Charles asked hesitantly.

Jake nodded roughly. “I’m fine.” He said breathlessly, “I’m fine.”

Charles offered a hug, and Jake, actually, took it. He didn’t need it, per se, but it felt nice. His skin was itching from Boone’s touch, and Charles was the only thing keeping Jake from just… digging his nails under his skin and trying to take off a few layers. He didn't like to be touched - especially by a dom - without permission. Not that the average dom asked in the first place, but still.

Of course, when Holt showed up, Jake shoved his vulnerabilities down, standing up straight and sticking a cocky grin onto his face.

A grin that faded fast as Holt admonished him in front of Boone. He wanted to talk back, but didn't dare - his nerves were on the fritz, and talking shit in front of a bunch of doms, especially with Charles with him, didn't seem like a wise choice.

“I’m a reasonable guy,” Boone said, “Fire Peralta immediately! He’s obsessed with this pizza place-”

“Reasonable?” Jake cut him off, “How the fuck is sending me a collar as a _prank_ reasonable?”

Boone frowned. “I did no such thing! That file had a donut in it and you know it!”

“That… that’s not what it was.” Charles piped up.

Holt's eyebrow twitched.

“My officers would not lie about such a thing.” He said simply.

Boone frowned harder. Jake would assume he was thinking, but he wasn’t sure firefighters were capable of that.

“Well.” Boone said finally, “It seems that… I have an apology to make on the part of my underlings as well, Captain.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Holt's voice was slightly cold, “Apologize to them.”

Boone grimaced, but begrudgingly did so.

Jake and Charles stood there awkwardly throughout the entire thing. Jake still wasn’t entirely convinced Boone didn’t do it, except that the type of no-duh humor of a donut definitely seemed more his intelligence level. Boone just wasn’t smart enough to be creative like that.

Eventually, Boone agreed to let Jake and Charles work the case, after Jake admitted why he cared about Sal’s so much - which was embarrassing as hell - and then Boone was _hugging_ him.

Jake did not like that very much.

Charles, of course, never turned down a hug, but Jake felt his skin itch harder.

When doms got emotional, they always made it seem that the nearest sub was the one who needed to be comforted. It was a ‘protect’ instinct, supposedly, but Jake thought it was more of an excuse so that doms could pretend that their emotions were actually the sub’s, and that they were still in control.

And nothing said control like forcing a hug onto a sub, just so the dom could save face.

Jake was relieved when they solved the case - no more working with the fire department. He was even relieved when he opened his drawer, and saw that it was full of shaving cream.

It meant they were back to normal. No collars in sight, and no Boone being emotional.

Jake could go the rest of his life without some random dom - or sworn nemesis, in Boone’s case - trying to hug him again. In a way, it was even worse than the collar prank. Worse than getting jumped. It was an action that was supposed to offer comfort, twisted into a pantomime of its purpose in order to gain comfort for a dom. It was violating in a way that only a kind action done coldly could ever be.

Jake would very much prefer if that never had to happen again.

But his orientation guaranteed that that it _was_ going to happen. Over and over again, for his entire life.

Which is why Jake just dealt with it the best way he knew how.

Pretend it never happened, and never acknowledge his feelings on the matter.

That way, he could pretend he was fine.

And if he pretended long enough… maybe he would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sal's pizza episode! D/s-ified :) but for real when boone hugged jake he looked _so_ uncomfortable it was really tough to watch
> 
> note: this chapter is different from the others in that I'm basing it off an ep - do you as readers want more of that, sticking to the show's plot but D/s-ing it, or more abstract stuff?
> 
> I love comments! Friendly reminder (that I put on all multi-chaps) that I don't like comments that tell me to hurry up/update faster, since they stress me out & have an inverse effect.
> 
> also oof, these couple weeks have been hard, I haven't written for fics in ages :( but thankfully I had a chance to write for this one so yay! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Jake was standing on the street corner, leaned back against a wall and bopping his head to the music supposedly playing through his earbuds.

“Careful, Jakey. Gaffer’s supposed to be coming up in-” There was a pause as Charles presumably checked his watch, “6 minutes.” His voice came across slightly crackly, and Jake readjusted the left earbud casually.

“No doubt.” Jake replied, tapping his fingers on his ripped jeans in accordance with the imaginary beat.

“You look so cool, by the way.” Charles piped up. Jake could hear the grin in his voice.

“How’s Vivian?” Jake asked. He didn’t want to have to respond, it would draw more attention if he was talking to himself. And what’s more, he was genuinely curious.

Curious being suspicious.

Everything had worked out between the pair, they were engaged now. Hell, Jake was the best man.

But still.

Charles was his best friend, Jake needed to make sure that everything was above board. A dom who treated their sub - fuck, Jake mentally corrected himself - a dom who treated a sub who chose to be with them with respect?

Jake knew Charles. He was a good, kind person who loved deeply and fully. But he also could be a bit of a pushover. He was normally pretty good about standing his ground to strangers or acquaintances, even bosses, but people who he deeply loved… well, Jake had seen him burned far too many times.

Jake had even been the one to hold the torch once or twice, so to speak.

Back when his anger hadn’t turned to bitterness yet - although to be fair, Jake was still plenty angry, he just got better at concealing it from everyone, including himself - and when Charles had finally divorced Eleanor.

Charles had been depressed for a while afterwards - the process of getting away from a dom was an extremely difficult one. Especially as a sub that, in Jake’s both professional and personal opinion, had been abused, or at the very least manipulated.

But then Charles had bounced back.

With literally no trauma.

Jake hadn’t been able to comprehend it.

He had struggled, was still actively struggling with a relationship that had ended before Charles’ had. And here was his best friend, going through a relatively similar experience, and he took it with no problem.

Charles wasn’t angry. He wasn’t bitter. He didn’t even repress the hell out of it, like Jake did. He wasn’t afraid of going into subspace again, of dating again, of _trying_ again.

And it pissed Jake off.

He knew, of course, the real reason he had been so unbelievably frustrated at Charles - he was angry at himself, and projecting it. Because if he was okay, then that meant it wasn’t a sub problem, a relationship problem.

It was a Jake problem.

And he had reacted to that realization with cruelty.

He still remembered, in snapshot detail. Never failed to leave him with guilt in his heart.

Charles had gotten him a coffee, for a stakeout in Jake’s car. He had been humming some song from a musical, and practically skipping.

In excitement. To hang out with him.

Jake just remembered fixing Charles with a glare, refusing to take the proffered coffee.

“What’s wrong, Jake?” Charles asked, seeing the expression on his face.

“It’s like you don’t even care.” There was no context, but they both knew what he was saying.

Charles’ face had sagged slightly. As if he knew what was coming, but couldn’t bring himself to let Jake out of it by interrupting.

Jake saw the look on Charles’ face - he had wanted to stop even as he took a sort of vindictive, twisted pleasure in continuing, “Did you even care about her in the first place?”

Charles had just quietly placed down the two coffees, typing on his phone.

Jake was still too angry. He wanted Charles to get angry, to get mad. Anything, _anything_ to show that he had something fucked up, too. That it wasn’t just him. But he also lost the ability to speak, watching Charles. Just wanting for him to react.

“Rosa’s taking over for me.” Charles said after a moment, voice devoid of emotion, before simply opening the car door and leaving.

Jake had stared after him, unable to form words to speak. He didn’t know what to say.

He felt a rapidly, exponentially growing guilt rise within him, and his throat caught for a moment, struck with the sudden urge to cry. Or slam his head through the windshield until he forgot that he had said that. But Jake didn’t have the right to do either, not when Charles was the one who he hurt.

The worst part was, he hadn’t even meant it. He knew Charles - the guy loved more deeply and more fully than anyone, and Jake _knew_ how hard it had been for him to make the decision to get away from Eleanor. Jake had said it just because he knew it would hit his friend - if they could still even be called that - in his most vulnerable spot. Where it would hurt the most.

Jake had realized in that moment, that this was what shitty doms did. That they felt the same vindictive pleasure that he had felt during the moment. That Jake was using the same playbook his old dom had.

That particular epiphany prompted Jake to immediately yank open his car door, retching.

When Rosa had eventually shown up, glowering worse than usual, she found Jake practically shaking, trying hard not to drop and make an even bigger mess of it all. He deserved it, Jake knew, he _deserved_ to drop and to hurt and to have Charles hate him forever. But it wasn’t fair to make this about him, to force the team to worry about him instead of Charles.

It wasn’t like Rosa hadn’t seen him drop before, either. She hated dealing with it, though - it stressed her out too much, and she would rather just leave him to deal with it himself. Except, of course, she never did, because she cared. Although she would kill him if he ever said that was the reason.

So, she slid inside the car, closing it sharply.

“You fucked up.” She said simply.

Jake nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was rapidly forcing himself to shove all his guilt away, promising himself he would hate himself later, once he was off the clock.

“You’ll fix it.” It was phrased like a threat.

“What if I can’t?” Jake had asked hoarsely. He cared deeply about Charles, he was one of the few people who Jake truly trusted.

And Jake had gone and smashed that trust with a sledgehammer.

“You’ll find out later. For now, focus on the job.” Rosa had replied.

Jake had nodded - it was jerky - and had forced himself to focus on the stakeout.

Charles had forgiven him.

Of course, still seeing the best in everyone.

Even Jake.

Charles had been forgiving, but didn’t let Jake off the hook, either. He had asked, in his own firm-but-soft way, why Jake had thought it was okay to ask him that.

“Jake, I just don’t understand why you would have even considered it. I thought we knew each other better than that.” Charles had said, standing upright, arms crossed, expression sad but set.

Jake could have lied. Charles would have probably let it slide. But they both knew that, if he did, it would alter their relationship irreparably.

So he had been honest. He hadn’t really admitted to his old relationship… being the way it was to anyone, until that moment. In an empty evidence room with Charles, he confessed to… well, not everything, because the last thing Jake needed right now was a fucking flashback, but enough.

Jake had explained that his previous relationship had turned bad, that his dom had turned abusive - Jake didn’t mention what had actually happened, since he had done pretty much every act of abuse in the book, and some not even on there, if they were being honest - and that now he had some - a lot of - issues around it. And that seeing Charles able to recover…

“It made me jealous.” Jake had admitted, staring at the floor because he couldn’t bring himself to look Charles in the eye, “And it made me scared. Because if you could get over it and I couldn’t, then that would mean that I was the problem. That it’s not all subs who get screwed over by doms get fucked up. That _I’m_ the part that’s broken. And, I guess I wanted to prove to myself that you weren’t okay, so that I could… I don’t know, justify my own reactions to myself. That if neither of us were okay, maybe one day we both could be.”

Charles had been quiet for a moment.

Jake didn’t dare look up, afraid at what he might see.

Finally, Charles had spoken. “Thank you for telling me this, Jake. And… I don’t really know the right thing to say, but… everyone goes at their own pace. And you shouldn’t hold yourself to any standard, including me.” He hesitated. “And I’m… not okay, either. I’m happy right now because my being happy makes other people happy, and that makes me feel better. And my life isn’t working out perfectly, but it’s working. It’s _improving_.”

“I feel like I’ve been running in place ever since I got out.” Jake said, hating himself for how his voice broke. “I can’t improve. Nothing’s changed.”

“Of course it has!” Now Charles sounded indignant. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re great! But life is always getting better. And I know it because I see you and _you_ keep getting better! Like fine cheese.”

Jake had choked out a wet laugh.

Charles had offered a hug.

And Jake had taken it.

Jake was pulled out of his thoughts by the phrase “eating ice cream out of each other’s collarbones” being spoken directly into his ears.

“Ugh, TMI, Charles.” Jake grimaced, deciding to never picture that ever in- oh no now he was thinking about it. Jake repressed a shudder. “Our time?”

“Gaffer should be coming around the corner any minute.”

Jake began bobbing his head again, turning to the side slightly so he would have a good angle to cut off Gaffer if he tried to make a run for it.

Sure enough, Gaffer rounded the corner about half a minute later, carrying a bodega sandwich.

“Stop, NYPD!” Jake said, drawing his gun.

Gaffer threw the sandwich in his face, turning to run.

Jake chased after him, easily catching up and pinning him against a wall.

“John Gaffer, you’re under arrest.” He said, only slightly out of breath.

“Nice job, Jakey! You’re the best!” Charles said cheerfully, putting away his police baton as he came up the street from the opposite direction - to cut Gaffer off if Jake couldn’t catch up. He, somehow, didn’t seem as winded as Jake was, despite having to arguably run further, considering their respective heights.

Jake grinned back. “Thanks, man.”

Charles had forgiven him for his harsh words from so long ago, and, what’s more, had been significantly more encouraging to him after that. Of course, he had always been very open with praise and compliments before, especially towards Jake, but he got the feeling his friend had amped it up.

It was unbelievably sweet, even as Jake’s guilt for why Charles knew about his feelings of inadequacy lingered.

Hell, Jake _still_ felt guilty about it, and it’d been over a year.

Charles seemed to see the flash of… whatever emotion it was, on his face, because he paused.

“Seriously, Jake. You did good.”

“You too, Charles.” Jake replied automatically, flashing him a disarming grin.

As Charles resumed their rather one-sided conversation about Vivian, Jake listened intently.

He knew how much he had fucked up when he had hurt Charles, and he wasn’t going to let Vivian have the opportunity to do the same.

Charles sounded so happy.

It made Jake smile a bit, to hear Charles wax poetic about his dom - even if some of the things he were saying Jake never wanted to hear again, or in the first place, for his entire life.

“-and, of course, she got me a collar.” Charles touched the item around his neck with reverent fingers.

Jake had noticed it immediately, but hadn’t really stopped to take a good look at it yet. For one thing, it was rude to stare at a sub’s collar unless invited, and for another, it made Jake feel a pang of equal parts want and fear.

But Charles was inviting him to look at it, clearly hoping for feedback, and Jake obliged.

It was a thick one - different collars had different sizes, depending on preference. Some subs had multiple collars for different wear and circumstances, especially when it came to celebrities and stuff, but Charles liked having just the one.

2” thick leather encircled Charles’ neck, clearly sturdy but most definitely soft. It was relatively understated, the darkish blue band decorated only by a thin silver trim along the edges. The clasp blended in nearly completely imperceptibly, and unless really inspecting it, as Jake was, it would look like one continuous loop. It was very obviously minimalist, and very upper range.

“Wow, Charles, it’s-”

“Amazing, right?” Charles bust out, clearly unable to contain himself for another moment. “Vivi and I got it for our big 2-week anniversary! I love it - blue’s definitely my color - and she preferred silver so it was a natural fit, not to mention here, touch it!”

Jake hesitantly reached out, fingers brushing the side of it. As expected, it was unbelievably soft. Still, he pulled his hand away quickly.

“Wow.” He said, impressed. “For your two-week anniversary? That seems… kind of abrupt.”

Charles shrugged. “Well, we had talked about it, and I mean I had brought it up once but she was the one who suggested it so it was a joint decision. I swear,” He sighed dreamily, “We are _always_ on the same page. It’s great.”

“I’m really happy for you, bud.” Jake said cheerily, “You two really seem to be connecting.”

Of course, Jake found it suspicious that Vivian had gotten Charles a collar - but it wasn’t like a cop made a lot of money, and they did seem to genuinely get along, scarily well in fact, so he kept those thoughts to himself - especially considering how quickly they had started dating.

Although, they were engaged now, so Jake supposed it was a natural step to take going forward. And, of course, that wasn’t fair to judge anyway. Jake knew some subs who put on collars on date two - although usually their own, in a symbolic thing rather than in the way Charles was doing.

Jake drove them, Gaffer in tow, back to the precinct, half-listening to Charles talk about the entire process of acquiring the collar, including how the two of them had discussed it together.

Now, that was interesting, actually.

Jake didn’t know that doms would let subs pick.

Of course, he knew that some subs, like the aforementioned, would go and buy a collar for themself - famously, some college kids he knew would put them before going to parties, because uncollared subs were over 3x more likely to get sexually assaulted than collared ones. He had even considered doing that himself, once or twice, but he had never really had the guts to.

From his understanding, doms would pick out a collar they thought would suit a sub - much the way men picked out proposal rings for women - and then the sub would just accept it or decline it.

He didn’t realize there had ever been a third option.

Although, Jake supposed, bitterly, maybe that third option was only on the table if the dom wanted it to be.

Jake pushed his negative thoughts aside. He didn’t want to bring down Charles’ mood with his mopey confusion, especially since his friend was still eagerly explaining the difference between chrome tanning, which gave his collar the blue color, versus the dyed version of the white aldehyde tanning leather, which would discolor over time.

Jake had no idea what he was talking about, but if Charles sounded happy, then that was good enough for him. Although the fact that he was talking about long-term did give Jake pause.

He hadn’t gone full Boyle yet, however, which did give Jake hope. Once Charles did, the relationship in question tended to come to a screeching halt, and it really did seem like he was going to careen into it at some point. Especially talking about the future on a scant, two-week long romance.

Of course, Jake didn’t have room to judge. He sure knew how to pick them, after all.

Charles went ahead to the bullpen, while Jake took Gaffer to booking.

Gaffer had remained silent throughout their ride back, having invoked his right to silence the instant Jake had read him his rights. Now, however, in the short hallway, he found something to say.

“I can’t believe I got arrested by fucking _subs_.” He scowled, voice gruff.

Jake rolled his eyes, handing him off to the two beat cops in booking.

“Yet you did.” He said blithely back, before turning to walk away.

“You should tell your buddy that a collar won’t protect him.”

Jake paused, midstep. He made his face carefully neutral, almost disinterested, before turning around.

“Protect him from what?” He asked casually, even as his brain screamed _danger_.

“Look, I’m innocent.” Gaffer said with a shrug, “But other people, ones who are _actually_ guilty, might not be so, well… civil.”

Jake didn’t respond, instead just turning back around and walking down the hall, to the elevator, Gaffer’s words ringing in his head. Of course, the perp was right. Being a cop was always a risk, and that risk was definitely exacerbated by being a sub.

Still, Jake thought with a grimace, it was like that for everything, so really the _comparative_ personal risk wasn’t that different. It wasn’t a cop problem. It was a systemic issue.

Which made him feel so much better about the whole thing, to know he didn’t have the power to change the system.

Yay.

Jake didn’t want to be in a bad mood, but… today he just felt so bitter. He wasn’t even sure why, but it just seemed like his head had been stuck on negative thoughts all day. About himself, about the world, about Charles and Vivian, about… well, _everything_.

Jake forced his scowl into a more casual expression as the elevator doors dinged open.

To the sight of Amy congratulating Charles on his collar, admiring it as he grinned joyously at her.

Of course, he hadn’t been upset before when Charles had gotten his collar, just concerned on his behalf. But now, seeing Amy so delighted for Charles’, was making him feel a truly ugly - and self-loathed - pang of jealousy.

Jake immediately felt guilt overweigh his momentary emotion. Wanting after something he couldn’t have was selfish, and it would only serve to make him resentful. After all, he would never get that moment, and it was delusional of him to think otherwise.

Certainly not a moment like that with Amy, with her smiling broadly at him, eyes warm, telling him how _good_ he looked in a collar-

Jake mentally slapped himself. There was no reason to be thinking like that. Not about him wearing a collar - since that wasn’t going to happen - and certainly not about Amy appreciating it.

As he changed their board to give himself another point, courtesy of Gaffer’s felony, he mentally regrouped, before moving to his desk.

Repression was his specialty.

He’d be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fact: charles boyle is amazing. no i do not take criticism <3
> 
> There will be more on each character & their relationships to jake as time goes on (with amy being continuous). I’m focusing on charles rn bc he’s adorable (and also s1 had a lot about him I've noticed?)
> 
> Reminder that i don’t appreciate comments telling me to hurry up/update quickly :)


	7. Chapter 7

Jake woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.

He rolled over in his bed, groaning, picking up his phone and squinting against the brightness to read it.

2:08am.

This had better be life or death.

Well, actually, no. Jake would prefer if it wasn’t.

He opened his phone, waiting for his eyes to focus so he could read the message.

“It’s from me.”

Jake bolted to full awareness in an instant, one hand going to his gun on his dresser, while the other slammed onto the switch of his lamp, lighting up the room.

Rosa was perched in one of his massage chairs.

“Rosa?” Jake asked, lowering his gun and clicking the safety back on. “Fuck, dude, I could’ve shot you!”

“I would’ve disarmed you if you were going to do that.” Rosa shrugged, leaning forward to place her elbows on her knees, crossing her wrists. It was lounging, save for the discrete tensing in her muscles and body. She was relaxed, sure, but ready to strike in an instant if deemed necessary.

Jake ran a hand over his face, rubbing away the sleep. Whatever this was, Rosa clearly needed to have a conversation with him, in private.

It was too early for this.

Jake clambered out of bed, surreptitiously kicking some dirty laundry under the bed as he did so.

“What are you doing here? Wait, actually,” Jake backtracked quickly, “How’d you get in?”

“Fire escape. Jimmied the window.”

“...I have blocks on those.”

“Jimmied those, too.”

Jake rubbed at his eyes again, before walking past her to the kitchen, pulling down a box of mixed herbal teas - only thing Rosa drank, and religiously at that - and turning on his faucet.

Rosa didn’t tend to seek out conversation, which made it all the more suspicious when she followed him into the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters. Angled to see all of the exits, of course.

Jake turned around, kettle beginning to heat up.

Oh, sure, he only had three spoons in his entire apartment, but he had a _kettle_.

Jake didn’t even know how he got the thing, but kept it because he knew Rosa would use it - sometimes when he wasn’t even home.

Jake didn’t question when he would come home to see signs of her having been there. He wasn’t sure what it was, but she had always done it, even back in the Academy.

He had two main theories. One, it was her way of checking up on him, without having to admit it. Concern for his well-being, maybe some slight paranoia, whatever. Or, two, it was because she, maybe, didn’t like to feel alone. Liked having signs of another person’s existence around her while she just existed in the moment.

Jake knew she would kill him for even thinking it, but sometimes he caught himself wondering about it. Her level of intense privacy was important to her, but he felt like maybe she needed people, sometimes. Jake felt that way, when it came to subbing. It wasn’t a stretch that even someone super closed off like Rosa needed to feel like she had someone in her corner.

Jake knew she only did it because he wouldn’t ask her about it - so long as he pretended not to notice, except for occasionally stocking up on extra tea, she would continue. And, whatever Rosa’s reasoning was, it seemed to be something that made her feel better.

So, he pretended to be oblivious.

Except, it was actually really concerning that he slept through someone - even if that someone was Rosa - breaking in through his window.

Rosa, the unexpected guest who currently was not volunteering any sort of information as to why she was said guest.

Jake decided to prompt the conversation.

Otherwise, they’d just stand here forever. He’d never be able to beat her out in a standoff

“Why’re you here?”

Rosa seemed to tense at the words, as if she’d half-expected him to just let her stalk around in his apartment undisturbed.

Well, he had done so before. She just normally didn’t wake him up for it.

“I wanted to… talk… to you.” She said the words like it was causing her physical pain. Which, okay, it probably was, but still.

“About?”

“Back at the Academy, there was a cop named Devin Drouser, remember?” She seemed uncomfortable at the fact they shared a memory.

“Ha, yeah,” Jake rolled his eyes, “Stupid name for a stupid guy. He got put in the 70-somethingth precinct, good riddance. Why?”

“I think he’s in on the gigglepig.” She said shortly. Somehow, she seemed to actually relax, though, now that the focus was being shifted to police work, rather than her reasoning - although Jake would have to know, eventually, about that, too.

“What?” Jake frowned, standing up straight, “Rosa, that’s a serious claim. Are you sure?”

Rosa nodded. “Absolutely. I just need a little more evidence. That’s why I haven’t said anything yet.”

It made sense. On the one hand, if he was innocent - which, based on Jake’s recollection of the man, was unlikely - and word got out, his career could be tanked. On the other, far more probable hand, if he _was_ guilty, the NYPD would bury it immediately. And, of course, Rosa sticking her neck out by pointing a finger at a dirty cop wouldn’t exactly win her any points in the department.

“What’s the plan?”

Rosa fixed him with a look. It was mostly her normal, impassive stare, but Jake swore he could see a touch of… maybe regret.

“You are.”

Seeing Jake’s expression, she allowed a grimace onto her face.

“Back in the Academy, Devin had a thing for you.” She said it with distaste.

Jake crossed his arms. “Yeah, I remember. I also remember breaking his nose and almost getting myself kicked out of the program.” The kettle began to whistle, and Jake turned it off automatically. “Last time I checked, that puts him in the pile of people I wouldn’t want to talk to.”

“He would never let me get close.” Rosa replied, leaning over to open his cabinet with his mugs, taking one out and passing it to him.

Jake took it, pouring the water into the cup and then holding up the box. “Chamomile or ginger?”

“You’ve got two more of the hibiscus.”

Jake checked. “Oh, yeah.” He picked out one of the remaining two bags - he supposed he’d need to get more, soon.

“He knows I’m on the taskforce. Knows I can’t stand him, too.”

“Well, I thought I made it pretty obvious _I_ don’t like him, either!” Jake frowned.

“Yeah, but he won’t remember that part. He just thought you were playing hard to get.”

“I _wasn’t-_!” Jake began, irritated, but Rosa cut him off smoothly.

“I know.” Her voice was calm, factual, and Jake calmed down at her tone. It was true - she was just stating a fact, not an opinion. Didn’t mean it was fair, of course, but it was a fact.

Devin was hardly the worst of the bunch who’d been… interested… in Jake. Some of them thought it was ‘cute’ to see a sub in the Academy, some tried to take him under their wing - but somehow always expected sex or him subbing as recompense -, some ignored him entirely, and some just straight up tried to attack him or force him into submission.

Devin had fallen squarely into the first category. He thought Jake’s existence was endearing, the same patronizing air as if a kid showed Picasso a stick figure drawing. It was infantilizing, and while his condescension was mostly harmless, he did have a tendency to get a bit grabby. Still, not as much as others did, but certainly more than was acceptable - the acceptable being, of course, the highly unrealistic zero times.

Rosa was one of - if not the _only_ one to just treat him like a person, as opposed to a sub. The elusive fifth category that so few people ever seemed to fall - or stay, anyway - in.

The first group, the one Devin fell into it, got under Rosa’s skin the most. She didn’t care for being talked down to, or told what to do - and she despised condescension with her entire being. Part of being a Latina woman did mean she got talked down to a lot, and she definitely had her fair serving of righteous fury over the matter - although she would deny even having feelings that could get hurt to begin with. “They just piss me off!” She would say sharply, while Jake pretended not to notice the way her shoulders would rise up towards her ears just a touch.

And yeah, it definitely annoyed Jake a bit, but it was relatively nonthreatening. What’s more, Jake didn’t mind being underestimated - when it came to people who weren’t important. When his old Captain or his coworkers had thought so, he was a little - okay a lot - more upset. But some random peers? Whatever. As Gina pointed out in the past, it can prove useful in the long run.

The second group got under Jake’s skin a lot more than he could really admit. He had sought out role models, wanted a guiding figure - to have people try to pervert it, over and over, wore on him. He got good at distinguishing motives, but still couldn’t bring himself to _seek out_ guidance - like he knew Amy did - out of concern of being misled again. Sure, Holt was sort of guiding him, now. But that had a distinctly parental tone, versus a ‘friendship’ one, which always seemed to dissolve for some strange reason when the other person started throwing around commands or trying to get him to kneel.

Jake remembered one particularly memorable time, when an older dom in the program “didn’t have two chairs” in her two-person, set-unit dorm. But she _did_ happen to have a pillow, if that was okay with Jake.

Jake had left. She, thankfully, hadn’t followed. And he had never gone back.

Rosa didn’t seem to tolerate that group much either, now that he thought about it.

The third category was fine. Jake didn’t care either way, and Rosa tended to ignore people she didn’t like anyway, so that group sort of worked itself out.

The fourth category… well, that one scared him. But he was equipped to handle violence, or even overt actions against him. He was a cop, and, hey - they try to hit him or force him, he can hit back without getting into too much trouble - so even though they were technically easier to deal with, they were also the ones who tended to try to fuck him up the most.

He disliked the ‘under the wing’ people the most, that was for sure - that’s where he’d been burned the most - but it was hard to keep up defenses _all the time_.

He’d been taught how to deal with violence. It had been Gina who hard warned him against the deceptive sort, late one night when they were drinking cocoa and Nana was asleep on the couch watching Jeopardy.

“Jake, you can’t trust them.” She had said, big eyes staring at him over the rim of her mug. They were both teenagers at the time, before she’d built up all of her defenses, too, and he had known, even then, that their conversation was serious. They always seemed to have serious talks when it was late at night at Nana’s. “Anyone who’s friendly right away - and not just polite, but _friendly_ friendly? It means they’re up to something. They _want_ something.”

“Couldn’t they just want to be my friend?” Jake had asked awkwardly, all gangly limbs and acne and low self esteem.

Gina had shook her head. “No one makes friends that fast. Especially not a dom and a sub, Jake. Play it safe. Always have a buddy system.”

“We’re a buddy system.”

“Damn right we are.” Gina said, before plucking a melty jumbo marshmallow out of her mug and popping it into her mouth.

Jake shook his head slightly to dispel his meandering thoughts, shoving the tea box haphazardly into its spot in his cupboard. He needed to get his mind back on track.

“Why are we meeting here to talk about this? Do you not trust the task force?”

“I trust them, sure. Doesn’t mean I’m going to take a risk.” Rosa shrugged. The tension in her shoulders gave away her nerves. Or possibly, Jake reflected, her discomfort at having answered so many questions that were tangentially related to herself and/or her feelings.

“Okay.” Jake decided to stop asking questions - it wasn’t like she was eager to answer them, and they both knew he would agree in the end, anyway. He always did, when it came to doing his job. “What do you need me to do?”

Rosa sipped her tea, giving a brief, small nod of approval - whether about the tea or his acquiesce, he wasn’t sure -, before walking back towards Jake’s living room.

He followed after her, and saw that she had covered his table in papers and photos.

“You did all of this while I was asleep?” Jake asked.

“Obviously. You really need to set booby traps, man.” Rosa said, setting down her mug onto the edge of the table - huh, she’d brought her own coaster, apparently, since Jake knew he didn’t have any. Jake knew better than to bring it up, though, or else she’d never drink a liquid in front of him again - and pointing to a police file.

“That’s his. I pulled his plates, phone records, everything. Each time we went in to do a bust of what we _thought_ was going to be a major gigglepig operation, he made a phone call. To the same number.”

“That’s definitely a little suspicious.” Jake acquiesced, “But is there any evidence besides that?”

“Yep.” Rosa pointed to the left side of his table. “That half is incriminating evidence. Suspicious bank deposits, credit card purchases, surveillance footage locations. “

“It seems like you’ve got a lot, already. Why not go with this?”

“I want him to admit it. On record. Which is why I need you. There’s a police social coming up. Talk to him, buddy up, see if you can get him to give up any info.”

“Rosa-”

“You’ll have backup. Me, a couple of other cops from the precinct - probably Terry and Amy, you know they’ll both be there anyway - and you’ll be wearing a wire. We won’t let him do anything to you. 1,000 pushups.”

Jake sat back, hiding his discomfort at her seriousness by shifting. He knew it wouldn’t fool her. Jake didn't know how much Rosa knew about him. About everything that had happened. She would never treat him differently if she knew - except _she would, because he's pathetic_ \- and she had always been this sort of protective-yet-hands-off throughout their friendship. But she was sharp, so sharp - she must know, at least a bit. But she'd never ask, and she'd never give it away unless he asked her. And he didn't think he'd ever be able to do that.

“He’s been helping gigglepig?” Jake asked, finally. Redirecting.

“He’s probably been doing more, actually.” Rosa said, frowning, “The other half of the table is other things I think he might be related to. Once I bust him for gigglepig, major crimes or internal affairs is going to swoop in for the rest. He’s a dirty cop. And a dumb one at that. The least he could do is make it a challenge.”

Jake sighed. “Yeah, sure, I’ll do it. Just… this is going to be gross. But maybe he’s matured since the Academy?” He added hopefully, “You know, grown up a bit. Stopped wearing those neon ties and doing finger-guns all the time-”

“Finger guns are on his most recent badge ID.” Rosa said, pointing to another paper, featuring Devin giving finger guns and a wink to the camera.

“When was it taken?”

“Two months ago.”

Jake groaned, flopping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“This is gonna _suck_.” He whined.

“Yep.”

“Cool.” Jake muttered, "Cool cool cool."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, i'm having different characters' relationships with jake fleshed out over the chapters! This one (and next) is going to be about him and rosa (with some amy thrown in their too because you know i gotta) :D
> 
> i hope you all are doing well right now! my life has been going in a super not cool dude way recently, but i hope this fic makes you guys feel better! It made me feel better to write it :D


	8. Chapter 8

Jake let out a nervous chuckle as he adjusted the tie of his dress uniform - taking care not to dislodge the wire attached underneath.

“Place your bets. How quickly do you think he’ll try to grope me? During the name portion of the greeting, or after I ask him how he’s enjoying the night?”

“Better now that you’re here, Peralta.” He pitched his voice down, making it slightly gruff, as Devin’s had been.

“I’m calling it. Enjoying the night, definitely. Rosa, care to wager?” He asked, faux-cheerily, over his earpiece.

“Jake, that isn’t funny.” Amy’s voice came over, sounding concerned. “Are we sure this is a good idea? If he’s handsy, maybe Terry or I should try the approach instead.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jake resisted the urge to wave his hand dismissively, not wanting to draw attention. He didn’t know why Amy was so concerned over him getting felt up. They were cops, they’d been held at gunpoint before. This was a walk in the park comparatively. “This op needs some sub-y wiles, I daresay.”

“Jake.” Rosa said testily. Jake detected the hint of actual nerves underlying her voice - the others would never pick up on it, he’d just been around her so long - and decided to quit poking the bear.

“And also because he already knows me, so he’ll trust me quicker. Sarge, you’re too high up on the food chain. And Amy, you’re way too respectable to have anyone believe you’re a dirty cop.”

“Aw, was that a compliment?” Amy asked, “I’m flattered.”

Jake fought the urge to blush. “No, it’s a burn, because of how… rule-follow-y you are, you… lame… person.”

He heard Amy laugh over the system, and he felt a small smile creep over his face.

Rosa’s voice cut through their banter - if Jake stammering could be considered banter, anyway.

“Jake, Drouser is at your 8. By the table with the blue hydrangeas.”

“You know flower-?” Terry began, voice surprised and a touch incredulous.

“Silence on the comms.” She growled, cutting him off sharply.

Jake hid his grin at her tone, turning it into a neutrally pleasant expression, gliding through the masses to casually work his way towards Devin.

He grabbed a drink, pretending to take a sip from it, before sidling up to Devin.

He spotted Rosa across the room by the bar, clearly holding herself back while another cop seemed to be talking incessantly at her. He could practically see her white knuckles from gripping her drink from here. Across the other way was Terry, who was animated - definitely talking about his kids - and then past Devin a bit, he caught sight of Amy.

Amy, who looked quite formal in her uniform, and was smiling, friendly, with a very nervous-looking rookie. Jake blinked in surprise. The cop was also in her uniform, but what caught Jake’s eye was the collar on her neck - thin and black - on full display.

As he watched, Amy said something, making the cop laugh, her shoulders untensing, seemingly put at ease by whatever it was Amy had said.

“Jake Peralta?” A voice asked.

Jake spun around. He had almost forgotten. Almost.

He pretended to do a double take. “Devin?” He asked, faking surprise, “I didn’t expect to see you!”

“Me either. I must say I’m surprised. This is an event for _detectives_ , you know.” Devin said, voice dripping with condescending warmth.

“Yep.” Jake forced himself to give a pleasant, neutral smile. “I work over-” He probably shouldn’t mention he worked in the same precinct as Rosa - “At Ridgedale.” He remembered Rosa complaining about it, “We just started carrying bullets in our guns. Very high-end, you can imagine.”

Devin chuckled, seemingly oblivious to Jake’s sarcasm. “Well, a lovely sub like you shouldn’t be getting put out where there’s danger, anyway. You always were a bit… sensitive.”

Jake forced a laugh. It sounded annoyed, he knew, but he kept it under control. “Oh, you mean back at the Academy? You know if I hadn’t hit you that Diaz would’ve gutted you on the spot.”

“Yeah… that was one crazy bitch.” Devin laughed loudly.

Jake gritted his teeth, biting back a retort, and instead remained silent, waiting for Devin to add more.

“Say, have you… heard from her, at all? You two seemed pretty close, back at the Academy.”

“Diaz? Nah, she went to…” Jake pretended to be concentrating, “The… 93rd precinct, I think. Didn’t talk after graduation. She wasn’t really… chatty.”

“99th.” Devin corrected automatically. “And, I don’t know, man. You followed her around like a puppy.”

Jake didn’t know how to respond to that, without giving the hint that he was still annoyed about Devin’s past behavior. In the end, he opted for, “Well, I don’t follow anyone, now.”

“Oh.” Devin seemed taken aback. “You’re single?”

“As a pringle.” Jake grinned, giving finger guns - he resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Devin seemed to perk up at the gesture. He wanted to get back onto the topic of Rosa. And most _certainly_ off the topic of his relationship life. Before Devin got any ideas.

“Although, seriously, do you know where Diaz ended up? My captain was talking about a new drug she was cracking down on.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I heard about that.” Devin said, taking a sip from his champagne. “It’s not really a drug so much as a stimulant.” His voice was still so fucking patronizing. Jake felt his smile twitch. “It’s called gigglepig. Her little task force isn’t doing too well. From what I’ve heard, anyway.” he added hastily after a moment.

Jake suddenly remembered how much Devin loved to correct him - well, correct subs in general - and decided to double down on it. Doms like him always had to make sure they were the most right person in the room, show off how smart they were. It was almost as frustrating as it was pathetic. Or, in this case, useful.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be super common in Brooklyn, on the docks?” Jake knew for a fact that it was being found in old traincars - just as he knew that _that_ was classified information, that only Rosa, himself, and, of course, gigglepig suppliers knew.

“Pretty sure it was traincars, actually.” Devin condescended.

“Mm, are you sure?” Jake frowned, as if deliberating, making his voice sound purposefully doubtful, “I could’ve sworn I heard-”

“Well, you heard wrong.” Devin interrupted hotly, “It’s found in traincars. Old traincars, like the ones in the old Greyhound station.”

“Oh. I stand corrected.” Jake said, making his voice sound grateful, as if he would have surely died without this information.

“Got it.” Rosa said in his ear, “Get out of there, Jake.”

“Well,” Jake said warmly, pretending to take a swig of his champagne. He couldn’t help the feeling of relief at the notion of getting away from Devin sooner rather than later. “I need to go mingle. If you’ll excuse me-”

Jake went to move away, but Devin caught Jake’s wrist, pulling him up short. Jake froze on the spot, careful not to react - his hand clenching around his untouched drink.

Jake felt bile rise in his throat and fought it down, trying to resist the urge to… something. Fight, run, he wasn’t even sure. He wondered if Devin could feel the pulse in his wrist where he held it skyrocketing, if it was just Jake or if everything had gotten so much louder and so much more unfocused at the same time. Jake felt his breath catch, biting back the little gasp of… not fear, he harshly told himself, _never_ fear.

Jake viciously shoved his feelings, his nerves, his _everything_ down with unmerciful willpower. He forced his body to remain still - too still, his nerves were on fire, he needed to tap on his glass or his tie or his badge but he didn’t dare so much as move his fingers. Lest they give him away.

“Unless there’s a spider on me, there’s no need for that.” Jake said cooly, giving his arm an experimental tug. The grip was tight - not tight enough to hurt, but enough that he couldn’t just pull his arm away without drawing attention to the pair.

And then Devin would know Jake was from the same precinct as Rosa - and, more importantly, that Jake had _lied_ about it. Even someone as thick as Devin would be able to put it together.

So, Jake remained calm, trying to figure out how to signal to the backup to break it up without drawing attention.

The benefit of a large crowd - anonymity on a large scale, but if he fucked up then there’s a million eyes on him.

“More privacy?” Devin breathed, beginning to walk through the crowd.

“I’m good here, thanks.” Jake said, eyes glancing around the room. Rosa and Terry were still in sight, but Amy had vanished - so had the sub she’d been talking to. Jake deliberated for a moment - make the arrest now, in front of everyone, and screw the taskforce over completely, or go someplace more, quote “private” so that way Rosa could - she needed the arrest on her name for the gigglepig op, which Jake wasn’t technically on.

Jake felt his skin crawl at the thought of being alone with Devin, but then he harshly reminded himself that, as a cop, as a friend, he would want the arrest to go in favor of Rosa.

So, Jake forced his feet to move, allowing Devin to guide - okay, pull - him towards a hallway further away from the crowded main room. Jake saw Terry’s eyes on him, was vaguely aware of how Terry was now walking across the room to keep him in sight.

Aw. Terry cared.

“Where are you heading?” His voice came across the comm, quiet - well, quiet for him, anyway.

“Where are we going?” Jake parroted to Devin, knowing full well the man wouldn’t be able to resist ‘enlightening’ him.

“There’s a few empty rooms up just this way.”

“Oh, wow.” Jake felt like he was in a horror movie, minus the screaming. “Empty rooms on the hall going off from the table with the orange roses? We should go into the room on the left. It’s my better side.”

“You’re so silly,” Devin said, amused, grip on Jake’s wrist tightening ever so slightly. Jake felt his shoulders tense, free hand unable to resist twitching towards where his gun would normally be. Still, he obligingly opened the left door, offering Jake to go through it first, hand letting go of his wrist.

“On it.” Rosa said curtly. Jake could hear her boots clicking as she presumably began the approach.

Jake smiled tightly, entering the room and then quickly continuing to walk, placing distance between himself and Devin.

It was fairly large, clearly an old office that hadn’t been renovated yet. Plenty of room so he wouldn’t be trapped.

“Be there in two.” Rosa said over the comm.

Jake turned to face Devin, watching him as he sauntered towards him.

“So, Devin,” Jake said with a tense grin, “Here to ask me about Ridgedale?”

Of course, it wasn’t like that line of conversation would ever work. Devin wasn’t exactly known for his nuance.

Sure enough, Devin crossed the distance between them in an instant, one hand sliding onto Jake’s face. He seemed to be leaning in for-

Jake pulled back, forcing a laugh to cover the uncomfortableness he felt. He brought one hand up to create space between them, palm facing towards Devin.

“Oh, no, man, you misunderstand. I’m not interest-”

“Of course you are.” Devin frowned, taking half a step towards Jake, who forced himself to hold his ground. “You were fawning all over me.”

“We were catching up. We’re done doing that. You can leave, now.”

“You think any other dom would treat you as well as I would?” Devin asked hotly, “I’m better than them, I am - hell, I wouldn’t make you quit your job for me. I’m one of the nice doms.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. The delusion was strong with this one. “Hard pass.”

“Look,” Devin smiled, raising his hands placatingly. “If you are interested, just say so. None of this playing hard to get stuff. We’re both getting too old for it.”

“And if I’m truly not interested?”

“Then tell me, right now, that you aren’t.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Stop playing games!” Devin growled, grabbing Jake’s still-upraised hand again, shoving it down and grabbing his wrist again, this time in a bruising grip. “You know, my patience for them is wearing thin.”

Jake sucked in a breath, before saying, firmly, “You want to let me go.” His voice dripped with ice, danger etched into every syllable of his voice and every muscle in his body.

It wasn’t a command, didn’t even come close. But it didn’t matter - he registered as a threat, and that was that.

Devin’s grip loosened automatically, but he quite didn’t let go. Not that Jake really needed him to, he could break it easily enough if he had to.

“That’s not how that works, Jake.” He said after a moment, “Or did being a cop make you think you’re a dom, now?”

Jake heard footsteps rapidly approaching, and slapped on a cheeky grin.

“Only when I’m in uniform.” He said with a smirk, before twisting his arm, breaking Devin’s grip with almost laughable ease.

Devin frowned. “I see you’re just as immodest as you were in the Academy.”

“Arrogance is my color.” Jake shrugged, watching as Amy seemed to appear in the doorway out of thin air. She seemed slightly out of breath, and was clearly trying to hide it, one hand resting on her hip. Near where her gun was supposed to be strapped.

Holt had insisted on not pointing weapons at an officer, to make the arrest clean. Especially at an event that technically didn’t allow guns.

“Detective Pendalta? Is that you?” Amy immediately went for a handshake, stepping between the two. “I’m Detective Santiago. We met at a seminar for handshaking last month.”

“It’s Peralta, actually.” Devin piped up.

Amy studiously ignored him.

“Oh, yes, Santiago! I remember you by your handshake, that’s for sure.” Jake grinned toothily at her, “The knuckle to thumb ratio in your grip is _truly_ the Mona Lisa of handshakes.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re too kind.” Amy replied, slowly shifting her weight so that she and Jake were now angled to be both somewhat facing Devin.

Cutting off any potential exit except for the main door.

Noice.

Not that there was any chance of him running out the main, as Rosa appeared in the doorframe, illuminated from the backlighting of the hallway like some sort of… well, not goddess, but she looked pretty fucking badass.

Devin - surprisingly - held his ground.

“Devin Drouser,” Rosa said curtly - although Jake detected the smugness in her tone, “You’re under arrest for aiding and abetting. We can either walk out of her nice and easy, or I can walk you in front of all your coworkers in handcuffs. Which’ll it be?”

“You’re wrong. I’m not…” Devin chuckled awkwardly, before pointing a thumb towards Jake, not even bothering to turn to face him. “Is this about Peralta? Look, I was just giving him some pointers. Cops like him, they need a little extra support, is all. Nothing wrong with that.”

Rosa’s smug look vanished, turning into one of distinct distaste.

“Jake, why don’t you and Amy head back to the precinct to back up the recordings? Last time Terry tried to do it, he crushed the second copy with his finger muscles.” Rosa said, eyes flickering to Jake’s face before reverting back to a now-staredown with Devin.

Hah. Jake allowed a small grin to form at the sight, even as he and Amy quietly slid out the doorway behind Rosa. No one, not even Holt, would be able to withstand one of Rosa’s glares.

Jake found himself hoping Devin made a fuss. Mainly so that he could recount Rosa dragging him out of the social in handcuffs.

Still, Jake was eager to leave, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as they re-entered the large crowd.

Amy reached out, catching his hand as she easily worked her way through the crowd, seemingly able to find even the slightest area to squeeze through. Jake followed behind her in a daze, and in a heartbeat they were outside, and heading to the car they had all arrived in - Amy’s car.

Amy still hadn’t let go of his hand, Jake noted. Her grip was firm, but not harsh like Devin’s had been on his wrist. It was almost gentle - Jake was sure he would be able to break it without question. But, of course, he wouldn’t have to - Amy would let go in an instant if he asked.

But Jake didn’t ask.

“You okay?” She asked, finally letting go of his hand - Jake pretended he didn’t notice how disappointed he was at that - in order to fish out the keys from one of her pockets.

“I’m fine, yeah.” Jake said lightly, “It’s always good to have Rosa owe me one.”

“Hm.” Amy made a noncommittal noise, unlocking her car and getting into the driver’s seat.

Jake slid into the passenger’s, closing the door behind him. He rested his head against the back of the headrest, letting out a breath.

“Jake? Are you sure you’re okay?” Amy asked again.

Jake kept his eyes fixed on the roof of the car, not wanting to turn to look at her. Her voice was so open, so legitimately concerned. Like she actually cared what he was feeling.

It made him nervous.

“When’s Terry getting here?” Was all he said, finally turning to glance at her.

Amy looked thrown, but recovered so flawlessly Jake wondered if she had been at all, or if it had just been wishful thinking.

“He’s supposed to come by once Rosa’s taken care of Drouser. Weren’t you paying attention to the plan?”

Jake waved his hand dismissively, “I only listened up to the part where I had to talk to that douche. After that, I just focused on getting it over with.”

“Was he always that bad?” Amy asked softly.

Oh, right. Amy could have heard their conversation over his mic.

Jake laughed bitterly. “Yeah, if you call him trying to force a collar on me after the first day he met me ‘bad’.”

Amy didn’t reply.

Jake glanced at her, and saw that her hands were gripping each other so hard her knuckles had turned white.

“I see.” She said slowly.

Jake felt his shoulders tense, quickly backtracking. “It’s fine, though! It was just a stupid prank, nothing happened. I punched him, it worked out.”

“Jake… I’m sorry that happened to you. He shouldn’t have done that.” Amy said, voice carefully soft. He could hear the anger simmering just underneath, but, for some reason, the knowledge didn’t scare him the way it did when most doms got upset.

He knew Amy wasn’t mad at him. Or even if she was - which for some strange reason he had the feeling she wasn’t, which was weird, since he had been the one to bring it up - he had the feeling she wasn’t going to think less of him for it.

Huh.

Jake hadn’t realized he trusted her that much.

Not like someone as insignificant as Devin Drouser was much of a test of faith, however.

Jake would rather deal with Devin every day for the rest of his life than have to admit to Amy - or anyone, for that matter - about the more… unfortunate parts of his life.

Still, talking about Devin was something. It was an improvement. He trusted Amy. Jake glanced at her again. She was still looking at him. Waiting for a response.

Jake opened his mouth - what to say, he wasn’t sure.

He was saved from speaking - and probably spilling his guts, if he was being honest - by the sound of the car door opening, Terry clambering into the backseat of the car.

Jake raised his eyebrows in surprise as Rosa slid in as well.

She answered his unasked question.

“He didn’t go quietly.”

“Did he incriminate himself further while he was claiming to be innocent?”

“Yep.” Rosa popped the ‘p’.

“I had to restrain him.” Terry piped up. “Some beat cops took him to booking. Ones Rosa actually trusts.”

“Hm. Rare feat.” Amy muttered, approving.

Jake turned to Amy, overdramatic frown in place. “Amy, seriously? I would’ve paid money to see Devin eat pavement!”

“Here.” Rosa tossed Jake a phone. “I had it recorded.”

“Aw, for me?” Jake batted his eyelashes, grin in place.

Rosa glared at him. “For evidence, dumbass. Just thought you’d want to see it first.”

“You _do_ care.” Jake said, voice pitching up to a higher tone.

Rosa’s glare hardened.

“Haha, yep!” Jake knew he should feel threatened by Rosa’s stare.

And he was.

Very much so.

“So, Amy, shall we head out?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sure.” She nodded quickly, turning over the engine and pulling out of the parking spot.

“So, Rosa,” Jake turned in his seat after a moment, frown appearing. “Now that he’s gone, how long do you think before gigglepig switches its system?”

“I’d give it 24 hours. Maybe more, if they don’t realize how much of a blabbermouth he is.” Rosa said, smirk appearing on her face. “Of course, we’ve known where they were hiding out for a while - just needed to get Drouser out of the picture.”

“Noice.”

Amy pulled up to the precinct - they were all working overtime for this op, but she, Terry, and Jake were going to clock out after putting the equipment back. Only Rosa was getting back to work. Gigglepig wasn’t going to stop itself, after all.

As Terry called his wife to let her know he was about to head home, and Amy carefully filed away her belongings - yes, Jake knew for a fact her bag had a filing system in it for all of her stuff, including her shame cigarettes - Jake turned to his own bag.

He loosened his tie with one hand, other hand picking up his bag - his belongings already shoved haphazardly inside - to sling onto his shoulder.

Jake paused as Rosa sat down on the edge of his desk, gracefully avoiding the knick knacks and crumbs that littered his desk.

After the other two left, Amy casting a quick glance and a polite, if exhausted, goodbye to the pair, Rosa shoved Jake lightly, a rare smile crossing her face.

“Thanks, Jake.” She said honestly, “This is going to nail him. And help the gigglepig task force start _actually_ making arrests.”

“No problem,” Jake shrugged, “Anything to get free, bottom-shelf champagne out of it.”

Rosa made a sound that could have been a chuckle, and then her smile was gone.

Jake knew her well enough to not take it personally.

“Do you want to get a drink?” Rosa asked suddenly, shoulders tensing up as her arms remained crossed.

Jake paused. Rosa almost never volunteered to hang out - he would have to ask her. And he knew she liked to, but would never admit it, so for her to offer… hm. It was like waking him up when she went to his place. It was a rare occurrence, and almost always meant something was on her mind that she felt the need to bring him into.

But Jake was just so fucking tired. He shook his head, “Sorry, but after all of this, I just want to sleep.”

“Jake.” Her voice was firm. It wasn’t a command, but he stilled just the same.

Rosa volunteering conversation was even more rare than offering to hang out - hanging out usually meant drinks in silence, after all.

“I only asked you to do this because I knew it would work. If I thought there was another option that would’ve worked under the timeline, believe me, I would have taken it.”

“It’s fine, Rosa.” Jake shrugged. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

At the words, Rosa scowled, and Jake mentally cursed himself. He basically accused her of caring about something. Fuck, she’s never going to offer a conversation again-

“Well, I was.” Rosa said, teeth gritting at the admission, “I knew Devin’s a total dick, and I knew you hated the guy.”

“But?”

“No, that was it.” Rosa said curtly.

“It was for the job.” Jake said, knowing full well that Rosa was blaming herself - in her own way - for not being able to detect out a better solution. For not being able to figure out a way to catch the dirtbag without having to bring him into it.

It was sweet. In a Rosa kind of way.

“Jake-”

“Hey, you said nothing would happen to me. Nothing did. We’re good.”

Rosa nodded, almost imperceptibly, before standing up. “The taskforce needs to get to work on that Greyhound station. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you.” Jake couldn’t hide the grin on his face as he turned and left the precinct.

Rosa was a total softie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! ya yee :)
> 
> pls comment it gives me life <3


	9. Chapter 9

The world of Jake fell back into its normal rhythm after that. Proof that see, repression worked! There were no repercussions whatsoever to refusing to even acknowledge or think about things that upset him.

Cases were solved and paperwork filed. A couple of perps threw commands his way - a couple of victims, too - but they were irrelevant, and it didn’t slow him down.

Although he did wish that people reporting crimes would stop asking whether or not a dom would be on their case "too".

Charles was still doing great, always in an exuberant mood. Jake was happy for him - although Vivian dropping by the precinct was a _little_ offputting.

Sure, enough, come Monday morning, Jake, Terry, Amy, and Rosa were sitting, watching Charles and Vivian at his desk, giggling away over cups of artisan coffee and suspicious looking bagels - knowing them, it probably had something horrific in it.

Jake couldn’t help the smile on his face - seeing Charles so happy was contagious. The doms around him seemed to be relaxed as well, a rare occurrence in the precinct where seemingly no one was stressed even the slightest.

“Man, Charles has been so happy and confident ever since he started dating Vivian. She has tenure, and also has ten years, times two… older than him.”

“That sucked.” Rosa said, her slight hint of a smile vanishing from her face as she glanced at him.

“Yeah. It’s nice to see him like this.” Amy said kindly. Jake glanced at her. She seemed genuinely happy to see Charles at ease with himself, posture relaxed, and a small smile on her face.

Terry nodded in agreement. “He’s so confident. This morning, he finally corrected the barista who calls him Charlize. He’s been living as Charlize Broil for _five_ years.”

Amy turned to look at Terry, mildly surprised, before facing back to Charles, smile spreading a little wider.

Jake felt a pang of- not jealousy, just… annoyance.

“It’s great. It’s all so great. He could take it down just a smidge.” Jake said, watching Amy out of the corner of his eye. “But I’m just so happy for him! It’s about time he caught a break.”

“He seems really devoted to her.” Terry added.

Jake glanced up at him. It seemed innocent enough, but-

“They both really care about each other.” Amy said casually. Jake turned to her, eyebrows furrowing slightly. She seemed oblivious, and he couldn’t tell if she hadn’t noticed Terry’s phrasing or had simply intended to contribute to the conversation. Huh.

Charles had always been more in-touch with his subness than Jake was - although, to be fair, who wasn’t? - and he had definitely been struggling with the lack of a dom in his life. It wasn’t just sex for him, Jake knew - obviously, considering Charles had a tendency to go full Boyle -, but it was about having that grounding force in his life. Charles liked, no, _loved_ , subbing, and doing acts of service for people he cared about. That was especially true when it came to cooking, which he considered one of his favorite things to do in the entire universe.

The fact that Vivian loved the same weird, exotic food that he did only served to cement that for Charles. The two of them would have the cutest, grossest relationship ever.

“Oh my God.” Amy gasped, horrified.

Jake turned, to the sight of Charles and Vivian trying each other’s coffee via one another’s mouths.

“Nope!” Jake said, standing up and making his way over to the lovebirds.

“Jacob, hello.” Vivian said, extracting herself from Charles, who also turned to Jake cheerfully, as if they had not just been eating _off_ each other’s faces - literally.

“Hey Vivian.” Jake put on a friendly smile, before turning to Charles, “We have a briefing in ten minutes.”

“Oh, I should go.” Vivian said, before turning to Charles. “I wouldn’t want to take away from your work, Charlie,” Her voice turning almost obscenely doting.

Charles stood up as well. “I’ll walk you out.” He said eagerly, “See you, Jake.”

“Yep.” Jake said, stepping back as the pair left the bullpen, tactfully pretending not to notice the placement of their hands on one another’s bodies. Charles was probably going to be late to the briefing.

Without Charles to provide entertainment, Terry and Rosa migrated back to their desks, and Amy began typing away on her computer. She paused as Jake sat down in his own chair across from her.

“So, Amy,” Jake swiveled in his chair, “Charles being so cheerful really seems to be brightening up the precinct, huh?”

“Yeah,” Amy nodded instantly, eyes lighting up slightly. “It’s always great when a sub’s in a good mood. I swear, it’s contagious.”

Despite having thought the exact same thing just moments ago, Jake couldn’t help but feel rattled.

“Is that something you like to have? You know, subs… being all cheerful, or whatever.”

Amy made a half-grimace, half-shrug. “Well, everyone’s different. Charles is pretty open about it, so I think it’s great. But more… private… subs are totally entitled to that, too. I’d never expect any sub to be open about their lives if they don’t want to be.”

Jake chuckled awkwardly. “That’s forward-thinking of you.”

“I just always hope that I don’t make anyone feel uncomfortable.” She seemed to be looking at Jake more intently, now, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was speaking to him more directly. “Or that, if I ever did, that the person would feel safe enough to tell me.”

Jake nodded slowly, grin slipping down his face. He felt like she was staring into his soul, that she somehow could see through all of his defenses and masks and wisecracks into who he was a person, how broken he was, without him ever having to say a word. And that enticed him just as much as it scared him.

“Yeah, no, Charles is having a great time.” He redirected the conversation, letting it lapse into silence. He decided to bypass her words, ruminate on them later in privacy.

When Charles returned, just barely in time for their morning briefing, Jake couldn’t help but notice the brightness with which he carried himself. He practically radiated contentment.

It was an interesting difference between the two of them. Jake only ever subbed when he absolutely had to, when he needed someone to take control for a bit, and even then, only in a bare-bones, strangers-only kind of way. He did it to return to normal. Absolute minimum.

Charles, on the other hand, embraced it. He subbed because he wanted to, because he liked it. Not only did he seek out relationships with subbing as a fundamental part of them, but he also didn’t do it to return to normal, but rather because it was fun. He was always at normal, this put him over the top.

It was a striking distinction, and Jake found himself wondering, as he occasionally - and guiltily - did, what it would feel like to be so happy.

He had felt that way, once. But Jake didn’t want to think about that. So he didn’t. But he couldn’t pretend he didn’t sometimes wish to feel that way again. The overwhelming, all-encompassing feelings of comfort and contentment and _joy_ that came from being someone’s sub. But he could never remember that without being reminded of all the pain and suffering that came along with it, too.

“Peralta, where are we with the black cab holdups?” Terry asked from behind the podium, startling Jake out of his reverie. He hesitated, trying to get his brain to jumpstart back into action and away from his thoughts, when he felt Charles clap a hand on his shoulder.

Another difference - Charles was always very tactile, but he got even more so when he was riding the high of subbing.

“I got this, Jakey.” Charles practically bounced up to stand next to Terry.

“Oh, all right. Have at it, man.” Jake replied, still trying to get his brain to unstick.

“Nice jeans, Boyle. Those are surprisingly low-waisted.” Gina piped up, putting her phone face-down to ogle.

Jake loved Gina. And she was far more clever than she let on.

She always noticed when subs were having a good time - or bad, for that matter -, even more acutely than most doms due to her being a switch. She claimed she got the best of both worlds (before launching into a rendition of Hannah Montana, because of course) since she could sense how subs were feeling like another sub would, and then if she thought they were hot be a dom for them (and vice versa). That way of describing switches, using the binary terms, was considered a bit archaic, but Gina had shrugged and said that was how she interpreted herself, so she didn’t care what other people had to say about it. “My opinion is the most important one to me, kiddo.” She had added with a grin.

Still, she rarely commented on subs’ personal issues. Quite simply, it wasn’t her style to discuss things that actually mattered to people - she was happy to gossip about trivialities, sure, but push to shove she knew when to keep her mouth shut. She was bad at keeping stupid secrets, but so good at keeping important ones that sometimes Jake would find himsefl questioning if she knew them at all - except she did. Although, the self-absorbed parts of her personality were easy enough for her to play up, making people assume she didn’t know because she didn’t care.

Gina was scary smart, sometimes. Or, well, all the time, Jake supposed.

“Eyes up here, Gina. I’m more than just a piece of ass.” Charles replied with a grin.

Most of the doms - a few beat cops, Amy - made an “ooh” sound, and Rosa cracked a smile.

Gina chuckled, looking amused. “Not bad, not bad.”

Jake knew that Gina, pretend as she might to be aloof, felt the shared sense of joy that Charles was projecting. A couple of other switches, and one sub, all of whom were beat cops seemed to be relaxed as well. Even Jake felt himself get put at ease by Charles’ presence.

Charles was currently going through the case - Jake grimaced as Charles got to the part where they discussed how they had basically no leads, due to the driver being not white and, therefore, every single race and ethnicity ever created in the eyes of tourists.

“Don’t worry Sarge, we’ll nail this guy.” Charles tossed the clicker back to Terry, who caught it without even glancing at it, eyes tracking Charles with a half-amazed, half-bemused grin on his face.

The Sarge loved love, after all. And Charles was practically exuding love from his very presence.

“I can’t believe I was just briefly attracted to Boyle!” Gina said loudly to Amy, waving her arms as if trying to shake off the emotion.

Jake watched Amy’s expression carefully. She seemed to be neutral, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Gina’s statement. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been hoping for, but somehow he felt disappointed, anyway.

They filed out of the room, and Jake went up to Charles.

Ever since Charles had started dating - and was now engaged to - Vivian, Jake hadn’t seen much of him outside of work. Normally, they did some fun, albeit random, stuff together, and to lose one of his key social connections - and more importantly, _friends_ \- was making Jake a little lonely.

“Hey, what are you doing for tomorrow night? I think I can get us some Mets tickets.”

“No go, amigo.” Charles replied with a grin. “Tomorrow is Vivi’s and my venue search. We’re going to go visit a few of them this week.”

“Oh. You guys have been spending a lot of time together, huh?” He asked, “Don’t you think you should slow your roll a little? You just got engaged like, a week ago.”

Amy appeared out of the blue, casting Jake a look of… was that annoyance or amusement?

“Are you really qualified to give romantic advice?” She asked, clearly intending to start bantering. “You’re not exactly the king of mature relationships.”

Jake felt his brain short circuit. How could she know about- he saw her looking at him, confused, and realized she was trying to get a rise out of him, not actually commenting on his past relationship. He blinked, trying to figure out how to respond. The silence seemed to grow between them with each passing second, and he didn’t know how to bridge it.

It was true, he wasn’t exactly qualified to give advice from a personal point of view. He hadn’t exactly had good fortune with it, and he had been notoriously bad with dates - it didn’t help that every time he went on one, the other person stopped texting, calling, or even acknowledging him when he said he didn’t do subspace. Or collars.

Everyone wanted either a one-night stand, which he was down with, or they wanted someone long-term. And long-term came with collars and subspace and subs who weren’t broken. And since Jake didn’t exactly fit the criteria, they left.

And thus, he had developed a reputation as being hard to date - the vast majority assuming it was due to his immaturity. He let them believe that, too. Didn’t tell Amy that no, actually, he had tried to make it work with all of them, but they weren’t willing to settle for someone like him. Of course, he could never say that without it leading to questions of what was wrong with him that being with him would be considered settling.

Just because Jake felt weird when he saw Charles happy, didn’t mean that he didn’t want him to be happy. On the contrary, Charles deserved the kind of relationship he so eloquently described as “washing each other’s hair” more than anyone else Jake knew.

Charles deserved more love than any dom Jake had ever met could give. But, hey, it looked like Vivian came close.

“Hey, Jakey!” Charles interrupted the tense silence, voice overly cheery, even for him. “Vivi has a friend of hers you could go on a date with!”

Jake blinked, turning from Amy’s face to Charles’, then back to Amy’s. Her expression looked confused, and a touch concerned. And Charles was overly eager, trying to cover for Jake and actually succeeding pretty well.

“I’ll prove I’m the king of mature relationships. I’ll go on that date. Let me guess, her name is… Patricia, she’s 49, and owns a house from before the economy made it impossible for people to own.”

“Nope! Bernice, grad student.” Charles replied, typing on his phone.

“Oh, that’ll suit you well, Jake.” Amy said, grinning. “College kids - idealistic, and won’t care about your debt.”

“Because they have money?” Jake asked, feigning confusion, “Amy, that’s not how college works. I’m pretty sure it’s kinda the opposite.”

“I know that, Jake!” She said, annoyed, “I meant because they’ll have debt, too.”

“Date set!” Charles interrupted.

“Great! Jake’s got a date!” Terry’s voice came from behind them, Jake jumping as he swiveled on the spot. “Congratulations. Now how about you all _get back to work_?”

They quickly dispersed, Charles texting Jake the date information as he made his way back to his own desk.

The rest of the day passed with Jake and Charles not being able to make any progress on the black cab driver, and Amy making another felony arrest. Their numbers were neck and neck, and Jake found himself continuously glancing at the scoreboard, as if the numbers would change when he wasn’t looking.

When he did show up to the restaurant, he idled outside, hands in his pockets. It was chilly, and he didn’t actually know what this… Bernice looked like.

“Hi! You must be Jake.”

Jake turned, ready to give a preliminary conversation, and did a double take, voice stammering out a random sentence. She was… wow.

6’ even, blonde, and with a bright smile. She practically oozed confidence, but more relaxed than overbearing, and Jake fought back the urge to blush at the sight of the absolutely stunning woman in front of him.

The pair sat down at a table, and Bernice began chatting with him.

It was all pleasantries, until…

“I wanted to be a cop when I was a kid, mainly because I love Die Hard.”

“Die Hard?” Jake squeaked. He had loved Die Hard ever since he was a kid - pretending he was John McClane, off to rescue the stunning wife Holly Generro. Of course, McClane was the dom and Holly the sub in the movie, but Jake would play pretend that he was on a mission to save his daring, gorgeous dom, who would naturally shower him in praise when he saved her life. After all, what greater act of devotion was there than risking his life to save his dom?

Of course, he also wouldn’t mind getting to be rescued, if… well, given the right circumstances.

“Die Hard? I love that movie! It’s great.” Jake choked out.

“I know right! And I mean, I don’t just love it. I’m obsessed. I sleep in a Nakatomi Plaza Security T-shirt.”

Jake felt a blush creep up his neck, as a grin spread over his face and he felt his head begin to duck.

“Ohh, wow.” He breathed, picking up his drink to hide his quickly blushing face, unable to help the slight shift in his posture to lower himself slightly, Bernice’s presence making him want to do so. “So, what do you do, if not a cop?”

“I’m in grad school. I thought about maybe being a sports reporter, but it would be impossible for me to be objective. I love the Nets so much.”

“You’re a Nets fan? I love the Nets.” Jake said stiffly, almost dismayed at how quickly he was becoming attracted to her. He placed down his drink.

Wow. Charles was actually, _insanely_ good at finding potential dates. He really should have taken him up sooner on the offer to set him up.

“Oh, my God. This season has been a disaster, right?”

“Yes!” Jake squeaked, gesturing with his hand helplessly.

She didn’t even question his love for sports - typically a dom entertainment - or try to gatekeep his status as a fan. She was already invested. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t like women were really welcomed into the world of sports, regardless of orientation.

As they continued to talk, Jake felt himself grimace, mainly from how badly he wanted to have her take him back to her place.

Bernice was tearing down his walls of defenses.

In fact, she was scaling them with absolute ease. His banter that he used to avoid getting serious she responded to in kind, their shared behaviors, their similar passions. He was dangerously close to actually getting feelings for her, and he felt himself wanting desperately to backpedal, even as he found himself letting her further in.

It was terrifying.

Their conversation flowed easily and warmly, and, by the time it came to an end, Bernice offered him a ride back to her place.

Jake hesitated, buying time by shrugging on his jacket. He had two options. One, protect himself, and turn her down. Bernice would probably take it well, and Jake would go home alone. Two, agree, go to her place, and set himself up for the inevitable failure and rejection when Bernice realized he wasn’t going to be the right fit long-term. But… Jake couldn’t help but think of Charles, so happy and so madly in love.

It was selfish, but Jake wanted that for himself, too. No matter how many times he got burned, he kept coming back, hoping for a different result. He didn’t want to want relationships, but he did. He liked Bernice. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to be with her.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Jake said, unable to help the small, hopeful grin from spreading across his face.

Maybe this time would be different, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more fun! i know there are mixed feelings about episode-based chapters, but i really wanted to write this one :D
> 
> gina+backstory chapter is coming up soon!


	10. Chapter 10

Well, Jake reflected as they heavily made out on Bernice’s couch, he really should take Charles’ advice more often.

Jake had his back pressed against the back of the couch, Bernice straddling his lap. Her hands were gripping into Jake’s shirt, crumpling it under her grip, while Jake’s were at her back.

When Jake finally pulled up for air, Bernice ducked down, beginning to suck a mark into Jake’s neck. He could feel her grin against his skin, and he felt one tug on his own lips as well - she was so eager, and it made Jake feel warm and fuzzy to have her so invested in something so simple.

Point Break was still playing on her TV, long forgotten by both of them as their hands had migrated to one another’s bodies.

Interesting thing, Point Break. It had been revolutionary - and highly controversial - when it came out in ‘91. For one thing, a male sub character hadn’t been a lead in an action movie in… well, ever, really. Sure, there was the occasional female sub role - like Ripley from Aliens - but it was pretty uncommon. Even more damning was the fact that the movie ended quite controversially - while the director and sub activists declared it a sub getting out of a toxic situation, doms claimed it was a sub’s betrayal.

Jake just thought it was a good movie. But he did note the positive implication of Bernice liking the movie as well - further proof that she maybe was going to be okay being with someone like him. At least for a while, anyway.

Still, Jake didn’t really want to waste time thinking about the implications of movies - although he would actually love to have that conversation with Bernice, he bet she would be totally into it - because he had more important things on him right now.

Like Bernice, currently _literally_ on him, seemingly dedicated to leaving hickeys across every inch of his exposed skin.

His hands slid lower, wrapping around her hips, and she ground against his lap, returning to Jake’s mouth and swallowing his moan in another kiss.

Jake was seriously debating suggesting they move this to the bedroom when the door to the apartment opened and a voice said, surprised, “Oh!”

Bernice pulled back, fixing the newcomer with a glare, while Jake jerked his hands off of her like he’d been burned.

“Grace, I sent you a text.” Bernice said shortly.

“Phone died. Sorry! I’ll just-” Grace sped-walked past the pair, grabbing a phone charger, gaze carefully averted. “I’m going to hang with Clara tonight. Overnight study sesh. Ooh, Point Break. Nice.”

Jake was blushing red, and Grace practically booked it out of the apartment, closing the door behind her with a quiet slam.

Bernice grimaced. “Sorry about that. Roommates, and all.”

“She seems nice.” Jake squeaked out.

“Yeah, she’s great.” There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Now, where were we?” Bernice asked after a moment, pretending to ponder. “Let me think.” She leaned down, kissing him gently, before pulling away. “Were we here? Or maybe,” Her hands slid across his chest to the buttons of his shirt, fiddling with them, “We were here?”

“Seems pretty close.” Jake replied, “But not quite.”

She unhooked his buttons, one by one. Then, she slid her hands along his skin, tucking against his chest. “Here?” She asked, voice sultry, as she rolled her hips against his pants.

“Myeah,” Jake choked out. Bernice drew back, pulling off her own shirt with a wink, tossing it over his shoulder behind the couch, before undoing her bra.

“Thank God I wore the front-clipping one for tonight,” She said with a shrug, “I can never get the back ones off easy.”

“I appreciate the gesture.” Jake replied, as she tossed her bra in the same direction as her shirt. “But… should we move?”

“Yeah.” She muttered, peeling herself off of him long enough for him to get up, quickly leading him into her room.

Jake had had roommates who used the communal couch for sex, he didn’t want to do the same to Bernice’s.

Bernice stripped out of her pants and lacy underwear, and Jake did the same - albeit his boxers weren’t lace. Maybe he should get some? That could be cute - as she gently pushed him down into her bed. She straddled him again, her hands on his chest, as she bent down to plant kisses along his jaw.

When one of her knees pressed between his legs, Jake couldn’t bite back his moan, and he caught a flash of Bernice’s smile as she pulled her head back, surveying her handiwork.

Jake imagined he was quite a sight - covered in coloring hickeys, naked and panting in her bed - and they hadn’t even gotten to the main event.

It seemed the time was now, however, as Bernice crawled up his body, sitting on his chest with her weight being placed entirely onto her legs, which were braced on either side of him. One hand came down to grip his hair - gently, not a threat but just a presence - and she tilted her head down to look at him.

“Do you want to-?” She asked, suddenly unsure. They hadn’t discussed oral beforehand.

Jake nodded, relishing in the slight pull on his hair as he did so. “Yes, please.” He didn’t use a ma’am - they were having sex, they weren’t doing a scene, so using the labels didn’t make sense for this context - and she didn’t correct him on it.

“Then make me cum.” She said, before letting go of his hair, using her arms to brace up as well - further ensuring to keep her weight off of him. Some female doms he’d had in the past weren’t as considerate.

Jake was eager to oblige, tilting his head down towards his chest, where her spread legs were waiting.

He placed a kiss against her hip, before dipping lower, tracking down to her clit to place a light kiss there. Bernice’s thigh twitched, and Jake took that as a good sign - she wasn’t much of a screamer, it seemed.

His tongue slid between the folds of her pussy, using the broad part of his tongue to stroke up and down, the side of it just barely brushing against each side of her clit. Then, he flicked his tongue across.

Bernice moaned slightly, hands clenching in the bedsheets, and Jake couldn’t help the self-satisfied grin that briefly crossed his face at the sound. Alternating pressure, he moved his tongue in a vague interpretation of a circle, taking care to slide it across her clit at each turn. Pausing for half a beat, he pressed his mouth forward as well, thoroughly kissing his way along the same route, before capturing her clit in his mouth, sucking on it gently.

Bernice ground forward, one hand coming up from the bed to run through his hair for a moment, before moving back to its place, panting a “Don’t stop.”

Now that she was close - if her tensing leg was anything to show for it - Jake repeated the same action, maintaining even pressure.

He was rewarded with Bernice’s breath hitching, and the feeling of her rocketing pulse against his mouth, which was still at work to carry through on her orgasm. Her legs were tensed against his sides, and, after a few moments, Bernice took a steadying breath, leaning back and brushing her wayward hair out of her face with one hand.

“Figured you’d have a mouth on you.” She said finally, scooting back so she could lean down and kiss him gently on his reddening lips. She made to move and grimaced, one hand reaching up to rub at her thigh.

“You alright?” Jake asked, beginning to sit up. She stopped him with a hand on his chest, shaking her head.

“No, no, I just… whenever I do this my legs get sore.” She chuckled self-deprecatingly, “I tense up too much. But I do believe we have something more to do tonight, am I right?” She asked, one hand stroking down Jake’s stomach.

“Yep.” Jake said, popping the ‘p’ sound, “Definitely, definitely have more to do.”

“Excellent.” Bernice slid off of Jake, rummaging into a drawer to pull out a condom wrapper and some lube.

Huh. Jake blinked at the label on the bottle. It was the same one he had at his place. Bernice tore open the package for the condom without fanfare, fumbling with it for a moment as she checked that it was the right way up. She rolled it on, and it was equal parts hot and weird how attentively she seemed to be doing it.

“First time?” Jake asked awkwardly.

“Hm? Oh, no, no.” Bernice shook her head, “I just… I like to make sure it’s right.”

“You’re doing great.” Jake offered her blithely.

Bernice blushed, and Jake’s eyebrows raised with surprise before he shoved his face back to neutral. She was a switch, he realized - not that it changed anything, of course, subs and switches or doms and switches can be in relationships just the same as doms and subs. Sub-sub wasn’t legal, though, although enforcement was spotty on that - doms viewed it as a threat or a way of ‘opting out’ of their orientation. Not to mention, since subs had been marked as property and considered inferior for so much of history, it would actually have been a good way to escape some of the abuses doms subjected subs to. So, naturally, it was expressly forbidden - came with hefty jail time, too, although the ‘therapy’ portion had been dropped from the legal system a few years back.

Dom-dom relationships were legal, but as far as Jake knew no one actually did it - doms didn’t tend to do well together in relationships.

Anyway, Bernice being a switch didn’t change anything for Jake, and he was brought out of his thoughts by her sliding her legs back over him, returning to her previous straddle over him.

She took a moment to align herself with him, before lowering her body down, guiding his cock into her.

Jake choked on a groan, one hand going to her hip, the other one reaching up to her chest.

She pushed her hair out of her face, before her hands went to Jake’s chest. They made eye contact and she grinned, before, still fully seated, rolling her hips.

Jake’s breath caught, and her smile grew, as she began moving up and down, setting a pace that was comfortable for her - and it suited him just fine.

Jake’s brain short circuited at the sight of Bernice. Her tall, muscled body moving above him, skin slightly shiny from sweat, blonde hair falling down around her face. Even though she was quiet, not speaking or really even moaning, save for her slightly out of breath panting, he could see the pleasure etched into her face, feel it in the way her hands clutched his chest and her thighs tensed against his, knew it in the way she rolled her hips with each time she lowered herself down, ensuring that he was landing in the right places.

She was gorgeous, in the way people only ever really looked when they were in the midst of sex - a singular focus coupled with absolute, unabashed nakedness - and Jake groaned at the sight of it.

Bernice leaned down, still not stopping her ministrations, in order to bite down gently on an already bruising spot from before.

Jake’s entire body twitched in response, and she pulled back, picking up her pace just enough to send him into overdrive. Still, he was pretty skilled at holding it together until his partner got off, so he just enjoyed the ride - heh, literally - as Bernice came again, her nails digging almost painfully into his skin for just a moment, her breath catching.

She slowed the pace for a few beats, before picking it back up again, this time with a clear purpose to her actions in mind. Sure enough, within moments, Jake’s grip on her hip tightened, him choking out a warning that they were going to be finishing real soon.

She rode him across the finish line, Jake’s hand on her chest shifting in favor of gripping a fistful of sheets as he came with a moan.

Bernice slowly lifted herself off, while Jake tied off the condom and put it into the bin by her dresser.

Then, she slid off of him entirely, shifting down to lay beside him in the bed. He leant his head onto her chest, one hand coming up to rest on her stomach. His skin was tacky with rapidly cooling sweat, and she shifted her head so that her chin rested on top of his head, an arm looped around his shoulders.

“I liked that.” She said, tilting her head down to look at him.

“Me too.” Jake said, answering an unasked question. He bit back his own, however - she had already said she enjoyed it, asking her follow up would be overstepping.

They lay like that for a while, and Jake fought the urge to sleep - he didn’t want to right now. He hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long time. Eventually, however - it could have been minutes or hours, he didn’t know - she nudged his head, moving to sit up.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Space for two?” He asked cheekily.

Bernice paused, amused smile creeping across her face. "Certainly." She replied, sauntering to the room in question.

He took a moment to enjoy her body silhouetted against the bathroom light, before getting up and bounding after her.

Jake didn't know when was the last time he had felt this hopeful, romantic stylez, about anyone - and he had rarely been so excited, or terrified, by the prospect. It wasn't going to last - he was far too broken - but for now, for this moment, however short it may be... he had a reprieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder not to send "hurry up"/"update faster" comments - but please do comment! I read all of them :D
> 
> a "scene" is a bdsm encounter (sexual, disciplinary, foreplay, whatever) that has the power dynamics, and while this chapter did have some (Bernice being the top in the activities, how they were positioned after), it was, as indicated, more of sex than 'scene' - in this au's iteration of reality, anyway. her orientation & gender have nothing to do with that distinction


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spoilers for point break :)

Point Break.

A classic movie, infamous for its progressive - yet controversial - sub advocacy themes.

The movie started simply enough, a generic action movie with a single distinguishing factor - Johnny Utah was a sub. Unusual, but in and of itself not threatening. Even the beginning act, with him targeting gorgeous switch Tyler Endicott and persuading her to help him learn to surf, was all within normal parameters. It’s even acceptable - if not actively encouraging for the general public - when Utah messes up the first sting operation of the surfers.

It showed that he was bad at his job - should have left it to the doms, the ‘real’ FBIs. How someone can watch a movie and not root for the protagonist was beyond Jake, but hey, the leaps some people go to to avoid empathizing with minorities, subs, and women is beyond him.

When Bodhi used Tyler to leverage Utah, it was met with distaste - how, after all, could a sub be expected to save their partner? - but that derision shifted when it was made into an act of devotion. Utah being a John McClane would have been beyond controversial, would have probably ended careers then and there.

But Johnny Utah, skydiving, freefalling, to his certain death - it was meant not to protect his dom, but in an act of true service. The lengths a sub would go to for their dom.

The fact that Tyler was a switch, not a dom, tended to be overlooked more often than not by that particular conversation piece.

Others, like sub advocates, would point out that Utah squared up against a dom - one who had a distinctly homoerotic undertone to their relationship - for the sake of a switch who had betrayed him, out of purpose. Out of a desire to actually protect, not just as some lost puppy looking for their master. That the movie was an example of how subs were capable of it - after all, Utah did catch the dom in the end, hadn’t he?

And that was it - the movie’s finale destroyed the entire argument about one sub’s indoctrination and devotion, and turned the entire film into an unequivocally rallying cry for advocates everywhere.

Utah, turning his back on the dom who had pleaded, begged, for his mercy. Giving it. Walking away, not looking back, as Bodhi surfs to his death. Tossing his badge aside.

Rejecting the doctrine of the dom who had held such devoted sway over him.

The movie had been pretty well received by minorities - dom men didn’t care for it, and dom women were iffy -but then it turned into an absolute cult classic later on. Women claimed it as a female gaze movie, with both a male dom and sub, both of whom were considered absolute dreamboats (which Jake wholeheartedly agreed on). The queer community marked it out for themselves as well, based on the devotion and indoctrination of Utah to Bodhi’s philosophy being an act of the deepest loyalty. Which Jake was less sure about - it seemed a little bit… abusive, to him.

Switches wanted it for themselves, too - not very often switches got portrayed as a true mix of dom and sub, rather than just relegated to one or the other and given lip service as to their orientation. Tyler was with Bodhi, and she was with Utah, too. She rescued Utah and was rescued by him in turn. It was rare for them to be actually… well, well-written. It helped that Tyler was hot, too.

Subs, of course, loved the movie as a community as well. Utah’s rejection of the dom, his reaffirmation and reestablishment of control over his own life, was met with raucous approval. It was rare at the time - still rare, actually - to see subs with their own autonomy. Especially since controlling relationships are painted as romantic - that sort of thing tended to benefit doms, naturally. To have Utah fully embrace, and then reject, it was a move lauded by sub advocates everywhere.

Doms didn’t like it for the same reason subs did.

The disapproval on the side of doms only served to cement the love for it in the switch and sub communities, though - in Jake’s opinion, anyway.

Regardless of all of the messages and how much Jake loved and appreciated the movie from a social and cultural standpoint, he had to admit.

He really liked to see a half-dressed Bodhi run around on the beach.

And him in the crop top during the football game?

Well, teenage Jake was over the moon for that, that was for sure.

Sure, Bodhi’s insistence that Utah give up control to the ocean was a bit… well, controlling, but teenage Jake had been enthralled with how Bodhi himself would do everything just for the adrenaline - that rush of pure emotion at controlling the one thing he couldn’t control - life and death.

Sure, Bodhi seemed to give up control - insisted that Utah did, too - but Bodhi himself always had a bit more. He would be the one to choose to risk their lives, never Utah.

Bodhi had led Utah to a cliff - and well past it - and Utah had followed.

Until he hadn’t.

Jake thought Bodhi was hot. It had also done him the solid of forewarning him that sometimes doms would take it too far.

Not that he’d paid enough attention to that warning, but whatever.

Jake felt Bernice shift beside him, and he tensed ever so slightly, but then she just moved her arm to pull him a little closer, still fast asleep.

Jake stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom.

It wasn’t anything personal - he just didn’t sleep at other people’s houses after hookups. Be it a dom or a switch, he just… didn’t. He wasn’t going to let his guard down just because Bernice had been considerate, had been all but perfect.

Jake turned his head to check the time.

2:18. Well, he didn’t have anything better to do than think, he supposed.

Gina absolutely loved Point Break - the amorality of it all was something she was super into. Not to mention she considered Bodhi's actor to be a borderline deity, and held up Utah's actor as a switch icon.

“Not as great as me, obviously, but he can hold the title for now. But I’m coming for it.” Gina was completely wasted, yet she fixed Jake with an absolute stare, oblivious to her slight slurring. “I’m the best. I’d make him my bitch.”

“Oh, definitely.” Jake had replied, taking a sip from his own drink. Gina could dom - or sub - anyone she put her mind to, that was for sure. She also had a tendency to make a specific type of dom fall for her hard - sugar doms, mostly. That said, she didn’t go for people who didn’t have enough of an ego - and, with all due respect, the boy toy of Point Break didn’t exactly have any ego to speak of, period.

No, Gina was more into Tyler than either Bodhi or Utah- a switch actually played by a switch, shockingly enough. Most media had switches played by either male doms or female subs, and they usually ended up sticking to that dom/sub slate anyway. What’s more, an entire subgenre - the switch femme fatale - sprung up afterwards, around women playing switches who would be assassins or spies. Although the switch was almost always played by a sub, anyway. Of course, those sorts of things always required her to end up with a dom man in the end, and anything else was showered in accolades for being ‘subversive’.

There weren’t many switches in the industry at all, really - partially because it was easier to get offered roles when they conformed to the ‘normal’ - male doms, female subs. Switches who were open about it tended to get overlooked, on the basis that they wouldn’t be able to ‘truly’ encapsulate the roles.

People like Utah's and Tyler's actors were exceptions to the rule - most switches got blacklisted the minute they opened their mouth, after all - but if anyone would overthrow an entire entertainment industry and change its system inside and out without exerting a modicum of effort, it would be Gina.

Jake felt his eyes droop, and rubbed at them in an attempt to stay awake. Gina would be rolling her eyes at him right now, he knew, if she saw him trying to stay awake rather than relax into sleep in the muscular arms of the gorgeous woman currently spooning him.

It wasn’t like Jake wasn’t tired. He was.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. He just… didn’t trust anyone, he supposed.

But his eyelids were weighing heavily on him, and her skin was warm against his. Such comfort - human touch, a break from the loneliness - was precious.

Jake closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes to Bernice shaking his shoulder, gently.

Shit. Jake shot upright. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

But Bernice was just smiling at him, gentle and warm. It fell slightly, however, at his expression - he realized it must have looked panicked.

Jake quickly hid it with a yawn, using the opportunity to surreptitiously check that he hadn’t been restrained in his sleep, shifting his limbs and irrationally fearing that he wouldn’t be able to. And he hadn’t - obviously.

“I’m making coffee. Want some?” She asked, putting on a pair of sweatpants.

“Um,” Jake’s brain took a moment to admit there was no threat, “Yeah. Please.” He added as an afterthought.

Bernice ruffled his hair, amused, before getting out of the bed and picking up a shirt from the pile on her chair. “You’re cute when you’re tired.” The words were thrown over her shoulder, already halfway to her door.

“Hzgh.” Came Jake’s intelligent reply.

After a few minutes, Jake heard the coffee pot begin to make noise. With an internal groan - he wasn’t exactly a morning person - Jake got to his feet, haphazardly putting on his own clothes before stumbling into her kitchen.

Bernice was pouring herself a cup of coffee, another cup laid on the wobbly table for him.

Jake hesitated - having not seen her pour the cup, she could have added-

He picked up the cup, other hand digging its nails into his palm. Bernice wasn’t a threat. He was just trying to make himself stop feeling guilty about falling asleep, that was all. Jake dumped some sugar into his coffee before taking a gulp of it - too hot.

“Oh, Jake, be careful!” Bernice said, setting down her own cup to pry Jake’s away from him. “Are you alright?” She asked, one hand migrating to his chin as if to check.

“‘m fine.” Jake said, face heating up - he hoped it passed off as from the coffee, but the look she fixed him with made it clear that didn’t pass.

Bernice’s hand lingered for a moment, before she drew away. “Good, yeah. That’s… that’s good.”

Jake smiled tightly, before picking up his cup again - pretending not to notice the way she made an aborted raise of her arm, as if to stop him. It was almost sweet, how she wanted to protect him from something as simple as a mouth burn.

Jake couldn’t tell if he was pleased by it or not - the protectiveness was cute, but a touch… controlling? Then again, she hadn’t actually stopped him, so it was more endearing than controlling. Right?

Bernice sipped on her own cup of coffee, leaning against the tiny, dingy linoleum counter.

“Sorry that it’s gross,” She said, “I smuggled it from the dining hall."

“Free coffee. Noice.” Jake shrugged, “I don’t mind - it tastes better than the stuff at the station.”

“Mm.” Bernice raised an eyebrow, “You mean with all that city budget you don’t even get the good coffee?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. We keep the local coffee trucks in business, though.”

Bernice rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond - her phone buzzing on the counter. She picked it up, staring at the screen.

“Grace wants to know when she should come back. Do you-?”

“Yeah, no, yeah, I should… I should go.” Jake said quickly, downing the rest of his coffee.

“You sure?” Bernice asked, thumbs hovering over her screen.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good.” Jake nodded. “I uh, I enjoyed your company, and… um, had fun. We should do this again sometime. Or, you know, just… hang out. Or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Bernice grinned, “I’ll text you.”

“Cool, cool cool.” Jake nodded.

“Do you need to get your stuff?” Bernice asked, gesturing generically to her bedroom.

“Oh, uh, no, I’ve got everything.” Jake patted his pockets.

“Oh, great. I’ll, uh, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Jake followed Bernice - the door was literally 10 feet away, but he supposed it was the thought that counted - and she stopped by the door. Her eyes raked over him, evidently self-satisfied, before leaning in and kissing him.

“See you later.” She said, opening the door.

“Yeah. See you.” Jake replied, stepping into the hall. He caught one more glimpse of her - sweatpants and, sure enough, a Nakatomi Plaza T-shirt, her smile in place, before she closed the door after him.

Jake left the building - ignoring the wayward glance of a few random people - and got on the subway. He had left his car at the restaurant - which, in hindsight, was a terrible idea, since, well, parking in Brooklyn wasn’t exactly easy. Or cheap.

He took the subway to his car, then took his car back to his place.

It was only once he was inside he thought to check his phone. 29 missed calls and 203 unread texts from Charles - as was to be expected. Or, actually, it was sort of on the low end for him, all things considered. A random text from Gina - it was all emojis - and an email notification about a new, inter-departmental training seminar on how to not take bribes.

Jake rolled his eyes at that, sending a quick text to Charles while he got food from his cabinet.

His phone began buzzing instantly, and Jake awkwardly held it up to his ear, as he carried a bowl of cereal to the table.

“Charles, text before you call, come on.” Jake said, shoving some food into his face.

“Sorry Jakey, but tell me! How did it go? Are you two in love?”

Jake nearly choked. “No, Charles, we aren’t- I met her yesterday!”

“And?” He sounded confused.

“And we got along well. We might have a second date.”

Charles made an unintelligible squealing sound from across the phone, eliciting a sheepish grin from Jake.

“Jake, I’m so happy for you! Can I put Bernice down as your plus one for my wedding?”

“Uh, I’d have to ask her first.”

“I knew you two would be a good match! She’s great! I mean, the moment she said-”

Charles began chatting away, and Jake let him - normally, Charles would talk on the phone with him for hours, and would probably go longer if it wasn’t for things like sleep.

Instead, however, Charles was the one to end the conversation - he had a thing with Vivian in a bit.

When the call ended, Jake stared at his phone. It was the first time Charles had ever been the one to end the call. It felt… weird, a bit. Like the world had suddenly sped up when he wasn’t looking.

Jake caught a glimpse of his reflection in the black screen of his phone - his neck was dotted with hickeys - no wonder he’d gotten weird looks.

He felt oddly pleased with himself at the sight, though - it wasn’t often he allowed his hookups to mark him. It felt a bit too much like he was an object, as opposed to a person. That said, it hadn’t _felt_ demeaning. And besides… Bernice wasn’t exactly a hookup.

He blushed deep red, and tore his eyes away from his dim reflection, not bothering to hide his stupid grin - no one was around to see it except him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience in how long it took for this chapter to come out! I've been ~struggling~ with the pandemic (i lost my job AND my summer internship both so... loving the financial instability). Anyway, it takes less mental energy to write one-shots than work on a multichap like this one (even so, I've barely been writing oneshots bc even that is a lot rn) which is why my updates have basically vanished this past month.
> 
> My complaining aside, I hope you like this chapter! And thanks for sticking with the fic <3
> 
> coming up next is going to be some jake backstory + gina, so there's that to look forward to :D
> 
> oh also i should mention that point break is a decent (if slow) watch, and this au doesn't mention/include real-life people, only the characters from the (heavily adapted for the sake of the au) movie in question.


	12. Chapter 12

Gina was sprawled out across his couch, slurping on hot chocolate and judging Jake. Not silently, of course.

“You can’t just put your jacket onto every outfit and call it good! You need some pizzazz - have you considered using a glitter gun?”

“You’ve bedazzled my flannel before, and it got sparkles all over everything.” Jake frowned, “I don’t think we should try that again.”

“Fine.” Gina rolled her eyes, “Don’t blame me if you look bland.”

Jake groaned, flopping down onto the couch next to her. “It’s not like this is a first impression, Gina.”

“Just show up in your cop uniform, that’ll impress Karen.”

“She already _knows_ I’m a cop, Gina.”

“Does she? Last time I checked she hasn’t been stopping by to say hello.”

“She’s been busy.”

“Uh-huh.” Gina replied, eyes on her phone.

“Besides, I’m an adult. It’d be more weird if my mom was still hanging around in my life.”

“Look, what do you want me to say, Jacob?” Gina frowned, “I’m not going to lie and say that I’m glad she reached out. You know how I feel about her, and I’m not going to compromise on it.”

Jake bit back a retort - when Gina had opinions, she didn’t bow down from them, no matter what. And this was one of those things where it just… wasn’t worth the fight. Not today, anyway. So, instead, Jake just changed the subject.

“Either way, we can get back to painting nails, right? Yours should be ready for a second coat.”

Gina checked her nails, then held them out. “If you would.”

Jake took her hand - the nails were a bright shade of purple - and began applying.

He’d gotten insanely good at painting nails, courtesy of Gina. He had steady hands, when he wasn’t bouncing around the place, and it had given them excuses to hang out.

Of course, Roger hadn’t been happy with his already-sub son engaging in effeminate activities - as if nail polish even had a gender to begin with - but Karen had always indulged it. She would say that she had, quote, ‘made peace’ with the fact that her son was a sub, if asked by a nosy neighbor or teacher.

Roger never did make peace with it. He had held on hope that Jake was just confused, that the tests were wrong, whatever. But when push came to shove and it was all said and done, Jake was still a sub. And Roger had to deal with it.

So he did. By leaving.

Jake knew his orientation wasn’t the only reason his parents had split - the adultery had been a big part of that, too - but he had never quite shaken the guilt for it.

Karen had done her best, but she wasn’t… perfect. By comparison to Roger, sure, she was excellent, but Gina never quite forgave her for allowing everything to go down the way it did in the first place.

Fact was, when Jacob Peralta was declared to be a sub, it was no cause for celebration. Karen had started sobbing, Roger had started yelling, and Jake - still not entirely sure what he had done wrong - had run.

Gina had been the one he’d run to, too young and too alone to know where else to go.

She had sat with him while he cried. He didn’t even know what it meant, to be a sub. Just that he knew he was supposed to be a dom - that’s what his dad had said, after all - and that he had somehow failed a test he didn’t know he was taking.

Gina had comforted him, in her abrasive way.

“You’re going to be fine, Jake. Like, you’re going to be a sub, but that doesn’t matter. You can still do stuff, it’s just going to be harder. So buckle up and deal with it, you’ll be fine.”

She had also had to explain to him what doms, subs, and switches even were - of course, they were both too young to even know what sex was, and the orientation education program back then was very gendered. But he got the gist of it - he was a sub, which meant he was supposed to work ntil he got married - where he would then be expected to quit his job and be a stay at home parent forever. Also, he had to wear a collar that mark him as married to someone else until he died.

“Actually, after you die, too. You get buried with it, usually.” Gina had added - which didn’t make Jake feel any better.

“Why don’t doms wear the collars?” Jake asked - the words had been heavy, unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Because subs are supposed to be property.” Gina had replied.

“I don’t want- I’m a person, though!”

“Yeah. But the rest of the world doesn’t see it like that sometimes.” Gina punched his arm, trying to cheer him up. “I won’t let anyone mess with you, though. You and I can be a team, and I’ll beat up anyone who tries to make you property. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jake had agreed.

Somehow, it had never crossed either of their minds that Gina might need protection, too. She was always so strong, and seemed so capable. She didn’t bend - the universe bent to her liking, because she wasn’t moving.

She got tested the next week, and her results were clear: Gina Linetti was a switch.

Her parents threw her a party.

Jake wasn’t allowed to go - Roger had put his foot down as Jake’s orientation being nothing to celebrate. And Karen had acquiesced.

Sure, Karen was better about it now - she was never going to be an advocate, but she supported sub rights politically - but Gina never did forgive her for making Jake’s youth so much harder than it had to be.

Whenever Jake tried to defend her, though, Gina would always just say, “Parents are supposed to protect their kids, Jake. Accept them. Love them. Did she do that to you?”

And Jake would never be able to answer.

Gina’s distaste for Karen, however, was nothing compared to the unbridled vitriol she had for one Captain Roger Peralta.

She hadn’t liked him in the first place, but once they were both adults, she had no problem laying into him, especially once some of the repercussions - i.e., Jake’s daddy issues - started becoming more obvious.

Apparently having strong negative reactions to authority figures was a bad thing, who would’ve guessed?

Gina was opposed to Karen, but she never tried to stop Jake from visiting her. Sure, she would say her piece about it every time, but she would never make Jake feel bad about it. And, afterwards, she would always sit with him and debrief - since even though Karen was supportive now, it was still emotionally draining to be around her, to be in the house he grew up in.

He loved his mom, definitely. But that didn’t mean it was always easy to be around her, either.

Gina, on the other hand - it was always so easy to be around her. She didn’t pretend to be anything other than she was, and, while she was harsh, she never sugarcoated anything.

Being a sub, Jake was used to people sugarcoating everything for him. Patronizing, condescending, infantilizing, whatever term best described the way doms - and even other subs - would talk down to him like he was a child.

Whenever he went for his mandatory drug screenings and blood tests, the doctors would treat him normally - up until they read his orientation on the sheet, anyway, at which point they practically coddle him the entire way through. Not to mention, the amount of times he’s been labeled as ‘looking like a fainter’ despite being, in fact, a cop, didn’t pass him by either. Or how he went to the ER once, and been told by the nurse that he had a ‘boo-boo’, and had to practically force her to tell him that he did, in fact, have a broken rib. When he was like… 17. Sure, technically a child, but come on, he deserved to know what was going on with his own medical treatment.

Gina never played that game. He loved it about her - she refused to be made uncomfortable for who she was, and she never talked down to people. At least, she didn’t talk down to people unless she had already met them and decided that they warranted her scorn, anyway.

Why Gina thought he was a good person was beyond him, but Jake knew better than to question it. She didn’t like humility, and she certainly didn’t like people telling her she was wrong.

Gina inspected her nails, approving of his work. They sat in silence for a bit - Gina, despite her ability to fill the room, didn’t always feel the need to.

Jake felt, privately, that even though she was fully content with who she was, part of why she _did_ fill the room so much was because otherwise people would speak for her. Or try to make her feel less than.

Woe to anyone who tried, but still.

He also knew that part of why she had been so hell bent on protecting him when they grew up was to create the image of being tough, of being capable of not only defending herself, but also others. Gina didn’t do things charitably - she always said that self-priority is a requirement of existence - and Jake had always known there was an exchange.

Of course, he also knew that she also did it because she cared, and her claims that it was solely because it benefitted her wasn’t the whole truth.

But Jake didn’t push her on it - he didn’t have to.

Not when she showed up at his place every single time he was supposed to meet up with his mom, and offer her support, in her own way.

Jake rubbed at his face. He was tired of having to dance around his mom every time he did anything - sometimes, especially in times like these, he wished he was capable of being more like Gina. That he could just cut off his mom and not feel bad about it, or just say his piece and then feel better and fix their relationship, or… something.

Anything was better than this weird middle road. He’d rather have her hate him than this weird, pseudo-acceptance.

Well, no. That wasn’t true, was it? He had to take what he could get. He clung on to even the briefest moments of acceptance - they came so rarely.

His phone buzzed, and he checked it. “I should go.” He said slowly, getting to his feet.

“Mm. Pick up some more marshmallows on the way back.” Gina said. Jake knew what she was really saying - one, that she needed more marshmallows. And two, she would still be here when he got back, with hot chocolate on the stove and Cyndi Laupner blasting through the apartment.

It was a welcome thing to come back to.

Jake left, closing the door behind him, opting to take the stairs down. Anything to prolong the inevitable, after all. Even though he was looking forward to seeing her, it was never easy.

As he drove, he couldn’t help but think of him and Gina growing up. Gina’s parents had pitied him,when they were young. He knew it even then, that Gina treated him differently - a better type of different - than they had, than anyone had. Her parents treated him like his teachers did, albeit for different reasons. They pitied him more because of his parents’ divorce and Karen’s… well, her flightyness, than anything else.

Now, teachers on the other hand… they pitied him for being a sub, if they didn’t outright dislike him for it - it’s a bit of a controversial thing to be a male sub, after all - which did make it a bit unpleasant to go to classes. Especially when education was already hard for him, what with his ADHD - just another nail in the coffin for him, in teachers’ eyes.

Jake was told that male subs were a sin by his english teacher once - informing her that he was in fact Jewish, not Evangelical, didn’t seem to fix the problem, oddly enough.

Jake turned off his car engine, his childhood home in front of him. He went up the steps - that familiar mix of excitement and foreboding growing as he knocked on the door.

It swung open, revealing the beaming grin of one Karen Peralta.

“Jake! Come in, come in!” She said brightly, pulling him into a hug.

“Mom, it’s good to see you.” Jake replied, hugging her back.

Similarly to Charles, she clung on, drawing out the hug for a few moments longer, before finally letting go so as to usher him inside.

Her home hadn’t changed much from when he had lived there - it had that same welcoming, eccentric energy it always did, complete with healing crystals and abstract art.

Karen poured out some wine for them. “I made potato casserole!” She informed, pulling out the dish.

“It looks great.” Jake said - while he did know how to cook, he didn’t have the patience to let ingredients cook on their own and go through all the steps of combining. He preferred to just put everything into a pot at once, which didn’t always lend itself to the quality that Karen provided.

“So, how have you been?” She asked, sitting forward. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy working cases and stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Working on the gigglepig task force mostly, with Rosa.”

“Anything exciting?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Jake answered noncommittally. He doubted Karen would be thrilled to learn that he’d played sub to catch a dirty cop.

“Oh, of course.” Karen didn’t question it. “And your friend, Charles - he’s getting married! How exciting!”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Jake couldn’t help but grin a little. “He and Vivian are really sweet together. I’m really happy for them.”

“Yes, Charles is such a kind man.” Karen agreed, seeming hesitant. “I presume Vivian is also… kind?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, definitely.” Jake defended, “She’s great. They’re great. It’s nauseating, actually, how much they love each other.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear.” Karen smiled, before adding, “And you’ll change that tune when you find someone of your own.”

“Mm.” Jake replied, shoving some casserole into his mouth so he didn’t have to respond.

“Have you? Found someone?”

Jake hesitated. “Maybe. I’ve started seeing someone.”

“Oh!” Karen looked surprised. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Then why’d you ask?” Jake retorted, more defensive than he had intended.

Karen ignored the question, concern filling her eyes, “So soon after your breakup, Jake? Are you really sure that’s a good idea?”

His nails dug into his palm under the table, “It’s been four years, mom. And I’ve dated other people since then!”

“Well look how they all turned out.” Karen frowned, “You haven’t had a serious relationship since that man, and I don’t think you should just jump into this-”

“Mom, stop!” Jake’s voice raised to a shout, before he forced it back under control, taking a breath. “Look, I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”

“Well you aren’t making good ones!” Karen argued.

“You don’t even know her! I haven’t even told you anything, and you’re already saying-”

“I don’t need to know anything about her, I already know the type of doms you pick, Jacob!”

Jake snapped his mouth shut, seething.

“As opposed to you?” He snarled back after a too-long moment, hating himself for how her face grew sad, even as he was grateful for the silence it brought.

“I worry about you. I just… I want you to be safe.” She said finally, “I tried to raise you right, have you be safe. But the world isn’t safe for people like you, Jake.” Oh, no, she sounded like she was going to start crying. “And I can’t protect you from any of it, any of them.”

“You don’t have to protect me, mom.” Jake offered, “I’m fine, I’m a cop even. If anything, I should protect you.”

Karen laughed wetly, “I tried to protect you from it all when you were a kid. Why can’t keep you from doing things that put your life at risk now?”

“Because dating people isn’t something I should have to give up to be safe, mom!” Jake argued emptily - they’d had this fight a thousand times, and would have it a thousand more. Nothing ever changed, except he’d get angrier, and she’d get sadder. “I can go on dates and make out and hook up and it’s _fine_!”

“The world doesn’t see it that way. I love you, you know I do.”

“I know.”

“I knew your life was going to be harder because of it, Jake. I didn’t want that for you.”

“But it’s what it is, mom! I didn’t need you to tell me that my life was going to suck, or look at me like you didn’t want me to be this way - I knew all of that! I’ve always known all of that! I just wanted you to treat me like it was something good.”

“But it isn’t, Jake.” Karen sounded pleading, “Being a male sub is a bad thing! Not because of what it is, but because it makes your life so much harder than it should be.”

Jake gritted his teeth. Their fights always ended up like this. She was right on a technicality, but missing the point. Yeah, his life was harder because of his orientation, but that wasn’t the point. He was who he was, and she _knew_ that - she never claimed that he should, or could, change. Just that… she wished he had been a dom, or a switch, if only so that his life would be easier.

He understood it from her perspective, sure - she was his mom, she didn’t want to see him suffer - but he was suffering anyway, and what he really wanted was her approval. Her support. Her pride. Not her telling him how much his life sucked because of his orientation, as if he didn’t already _fucking_ know.

They only ever fought about this, and occasionally about dad. It was easier to just avoid the topics entirely, let her pretend that he was just a “normal” guy and never mention anything even relating to his orientation.

Of course, it didn’t make him feel better to know that his mom’s comfort around him was conditional on him not talking about aspects of his own life, own identity.

Jake bit his tongue, hiding words that he knew would never change anything, before finally saying, “I get it.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Karen wiped at her eyes, before smiling shakily. “So, update me about your desk turf war with Amy, dear.”

Moving into safer territory. Jake took the opportunity for what it was - an out from the same fight that they had memorized by rote.

He recounted the latest spats between Amy and himself, namely from his crumbs migrating due to the air conditioning’s patterns, as Karen laughed a little bit too forcefully.

She talked about the neighbors - “They’re lesbians, Jake” - for a while, and her borderline-creepy recounting of their gardening habits was almost enough to distract him from the whole thing. This was familiar, too - they’d fight, and then move on without ever resolving it. Because they never quite could.

His ex had taken away so much, Jake refused to let him take away anything more. He wouldn’t let him.

But to Karen, it was a manifestation of her worst fear - she had always been so scared for Jake, about how hard his life would be because of his orientation. To her, his ex was the default for subs like him, and that meant that it was safer to never date anyone.

Jake stayed the obligatory amount of time, before saying that he had to leave - he had to get some groceries.

“You should come over again soon.” Karen said, walking him to the door, wrapping him in another hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, I’ll… see when I’m available.” Jake replied, accepting the hug, before leaving to his car.

Once she closed the door, he slumped back, pressing his head into the headrest. He wanted to curse, or get angry, or something, but he just felt tired.

He turned over the engine, driving back to his apartment - there was a convenience store that sold gigantic bags of marshmallows along the way, so he stopped in. They were all pastel and weird shapes - he figured Gina would get a kick out of them.Jake put the bag at the counter - the cashier barely giving him a glance as she scanned it.

“Thanks.” Jake said as she handed it to him.

She rolled her eyes.

Eh, gas stations at night were always sort of weird. Jake took his marshmallows back to his car, tossing them into his passenger side as he headed home.

Jake walked into his apartment, closing the latch automatically.

“You look like shit.” Gina said cheerily, not glancing up from her phone.

Jake tossed her the bag of marshmallows - he had gotten the pink ones shaped like stars - and flopped down onto the couch, bringing his hands up to his face.

“You want to talk about it?” Gina asked, stirring a pot of hot chocolate on the stovetop.

“No.” Jake grumbled, turning to face her. “I really don’t.”

“Okay.” Gina replied casually, “Want to watch some cooking shows?”

“Will you make fun of everyone?”

“Of course.”

“...Yeah.”

Gina handed him a mug, sitting down next to him and yanking the blanket over them both. “You need to use your heater more, dude.” Seeing his vulnerable expression, her face softened slightly, and her phone - which she had somehow been balancing in her hands the entire time - slipped into a pocket. “Come on.” She sighed, wrapping her arm around him and letting him rest against her side.

“Thanks.” Jake said meekly.

“Just drink your drank, Jacob.” She said, voice as close to gentle as she ever allows.

Gina always had these moments. It was hard to explain, because she was always herself - Gina Linetti, no one could take that away from her, that was for sure -, but in a way there was this bit of… softness about her she didn’t like to show. Which was strange, because she loved herself so forcefully.

They had grown up together, and the moments of softness were always there. He could never quite place what it was, what these little moments were to Gina. A weakness, or something private? Both strange to consider, considering she had no weaknesses and had no sense of privacy. Maybe it had to do with the ‘Gina Linetti’ image, or maybe she did genuinely dislike this part of herself.

But then, if she did, she wouldn’t be keen on letting him see it.

Jake couldn’t pretend to understand Gina - he could only ever take her at face value. But, regardless of her reasons, he was grateful for these moments. For a not-insignificant portion of time, these moments were the only times where he had felt cared for. And while he was a bit better about it now - work and friends and hookups certainly helped - there were still moments like these, where he just felt so painfully alone.

So he just curled up tighter against her, taking a sip from his perfectly over-sweet drink, and listened to her scorn the chefs’ cooking skills, phone back in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline:**  
>  1981: Jake is born  
> 1999: Jake joins the police academy (age 18)  
> 2006: Jake and partner begin relationship (age 25)  
> 2009: Jake and partner end relationship (age 28)  
> 2010: Charles and Eleanor get divorced  
> 2013: B99 season 1 begins (age 32)
> 
> gina and backstory chapter! i'm moving to the end of s1 (I think 1 more chapter before it goes into the s2 opening), like I really want to keep the fic progressing so we can get to ~peraltiago~ shenanigans and really start getting into the high-intensity angst (that's right, everything so far is pretty minor by my standards hehe) This fic should pick up more speed for the s2 portion of it, mainly just because its more standalone than the establishing s1 stuff
> 
> I love comments! they absolutely make my day - and if there's specific stuff you want included lmk, i might be able to fit it in :D


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey Jake, can we talk?” Charles asked suddenly.

Jake didn’t turn - keeping his eyes fixed on the building that they were staking out - but replied, “Yeah, man, what’s up?”

Charles rarely hesitated before talking, which was enough to make Jake slightly concerned that it was something genuinely important.

“Vivi and I are moving to Canada.”

Whatever Jake had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.

“What?” He asked, turning, “Canada? Seriously? _Canada_?”

“Yeah.” Charles shrugged, “She got a job offer in a university up there, too good of an offer to pass up. And-”

“What about your job? What about us?” Jake asked petulantly, as Charles shifted awkwardly.

“We want a family, so we talked about my being a stay at home dad. And, I mean, I’ve always wanted that!”

“You wanted that here, in Brooklyn! And, just…” Jake paused, closing his eyes and taking a breath. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t his life, it was Charles’, and he had to be supportive. He had to be. He could cry about it later, it was fine. “Well, is moving to Canada what you want?”

Charles hesitated. “Yes. I think.” He answered finally, unconvinced.

Jake frowned. “You… don’t sound confident about that.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t _want_ to leave the 99. Or you. Or the cuisine. Or my food blog. Or you. But, I mean, I have to ask which is more important to me, Vivian or my life here, and…” Charles trailed off.

Jake didn’t reply, waiting.

Charles sighed, then admitted, “I don’t want to go to Canada.”

“Oh.” Jake tried to pretend he wasn’t as relieved about that as he was. “Then, you and Vivian should talk about that.”

“I can’t! That job is her dream, she can’t pass it up.”

“But you’ll pass up yours for hers?” Jake asked.

“I- I don’t know.” Charles frowned. “I love her, but I don’t want- I mean, I would be okay with moving for her. Wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t think you should move if you’re not sure.” Jake said, “I know you two are engaged and all, but I don’t think you should give up your life for her.”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t want me to go.” Charles replied, although there was no venom to his voice.

“Well, yeah.” Jake replied, “But I care about you, dude. And I’m not gonna encourage you to do something that you aren’t sure of.”

“I can’t just talk to Vivian about it, though! Every time I bring it up she talks about how excited she is for it, and I just… forget how I feel about it until later.”

Jake smiled bitterly at that. One of the plights of subhood - it was hard to object to the wishes of their dom, especially when love was involved. Subs were always expected to make sacrifices for the dom, when it never seemed to apply in the reverse.

Jake doubted that Vivian was being malicious about it - but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t indirectly using her privileges to get what she wanted out of the situation.

“I can go with you,” He offered, “And help you talk it out with her.”

“Really?” Charles perked up, “Jakey, you’re the best!”

“No problem.” Jake shrugged, “When are you seeing her next?”

“We’re meeting up for dinner tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be going out with Bernice tonight, though?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, but bros- wait, no, uh, friends before girl...friends.” Jake replied awkwardly.

“How are you two getting along, by the way?” Charles asked, “I did some digging to make sure she was legit first, and you two have been going out for a couple months now. How’s it going?”

“Good.” Jake tried to shrug nonchalantly, unable to hide the small smile that crossed his face while thinking about her. “She’s… she’s great.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Jake grinned, “She’s awesome. We get along really well, and she’s smart. And she makes me feel… safe.”

Charles looked slightly sad at that word choice, so Jake added cheerfully, “Thanks for introducing us, dude.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Charles shrugged, “It’s my responsibility as your friend to make sure you’re happy, too.”

Jake sent Bernice a text to move their date - she replied with a thumbs up, and an invitation to text her if anything changed - and Charles gave him the restaurant place.

He was legitimately really happy with Bernice. She was funny, smart, they shared a lot of interests… and she was always so kind. He still wasn’t able to just talk to her about stuff, and he knew he deflected any attempts at deepening the conversations beyond casual, but she didn’t hold it against him.

She’d even been accepting with the lack of subspace - when he told her he didn’t go there, she had just paused for a moment before saying that she didn’t mind, before jobking that he was good enough in bed that he didn’t need it.

He’d laughed with her - she handled intense stuff the same way he did, with a joke and a grin - and they’d both never mentioned it again. That was about the closest to deep they’d gone. He figured that, if he wanted to get serious, they’d have to talk about some real stuff at some point - but he kept pushing it off. That’s part of why he’d been so eager to postpone on her tonight - he’d told himself that they’d have a real talk at their next date. So any chance to delay that was good in his book.

Jake was determined not to let Charles leave for Canada unless he emphatically wanted it - which he knew for a fact was never going to happen. Jake wasn’t going to lose his best friend to anyone, especially not _Canada_. What’s more, he wasn’t going to let Charles sacrifice his life for the sake of his dom. Most of it was just that Charles deserved to be happy, but a small part of him also viewed it as the principle of the thing - Charles shouldn’t feel like he has to give up his dreams for his dom’s.

He found himself thinking about it all throughout the day, trying to figure out the best way to approach the situation - distracting himself only when Amy challenged him to a coffee making competition - she won, but only because Hitchcock and Scully had drunk the open creamer so he had to open a new bottle.

It was nearing the end of the workday, so Jake finished off his coffee - ew, hazelnut creamer was decidedly not his thing - and joined Charles at the elevator.

“Where are you two headed?” Amy asked, squeezing between the closing doors at the last moment.

“We’re going on a date with Vivian.” Charles replied.

Amy turned, eyebrows raised. “Oh, uh, have fun.” She said awkwardly, eyes fixed anywhere but on Jake as she slowly turned back around to face the doors.

“Not- not like that!” Jake replied, face blushing red, “It’s- we’re just talking. About stuff.” He eyed Charles imploringly, and he cut in.

“Vivian and I are talking about moving to Canada.”

“Oh!” Amy swiveled around, “I don’t- um, do you think that’s a good idea?”

Charles looked uncomfortable, so Jake interrupted, “Oh, look! We’re there,” as the doors opened, “Well, Santiago, have a good night.”

“Um, yeah, you too,” She replied awkwardly, as Jake practically dragged Charles out the building to his car.

“Sorry.” Jake said, “I panicked.”

“It’s alright.” Charles shrugged, “She’s going to find out about Canada one way or another.”

“Yeah.” Jake replied somberly, obligingly getting into the car as Charles started it up.

They drove in companionable silence - normally Charles would be chatting, but he was clearly too nervous to do so.

Vivian greeted Charles with a kiss that went on way too long for the hostesses’ comfort, before seeming to notice Jake.

“Oh, Jacob! I was delighted to hear you’d be joining us tonight.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Jake replied, ignoring the hostesses’ judgemental side eye - why was everyone phrasing it like that? - as he glanced at Charles, who was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

They sat at the table, making small talk, until Jake said, “So, Canada, huh?”

“Yes.” Vivian grinned, “It’s my dream job. More research grants, better pay, not to mention it’s _Canada_ ” - saying it the exact oppositely that Jake would have - “And we’re both so excited to move there!”

“I don’t know,” Jake said, nudging Charles under the table, “It’s a pretty big step to move from both of your homes. I mean, Charles is going to have to leave everything behind - his job, his food blog, his friends,-”

“Yes, but we’ve already discussed it.” Vivian replied quickly, “Several times, in fact. And Chuck has been nothing but eager about the move.”

“Are you, Charles?” Jake asked, turning to him - who had been silent during the whole thing - “Are you happy to move to Canada?”

Charles hesitated, before frowning. “Yes, Jake, I am. And, what’s more, I don’t think you’re being a very supportive friend. Vivian and I are happy together, and I want to move to Canad with her.”

“No, you don’t.” Jake said automatically, thrown by the fact that this was not going as he had planned and rehearsed in his head, “You’re giving up everything you care about, just because you two are engaged doesn’t mean you should be making those kinds of sacrifices-”

“Jake, stop.” Charles shot back, “It’s not a sacrifice to love someone. I know you don’t think -” Charles cut himself off, eyes widening slightly, before adding, “We’ve already discussed this as a couple, and this is what we want. And if you can’t respect that, then… then we have nothing to say to each other.”

Charles got up to leave, but Jake shot back, “Oh yeah? What am I not thinking? Come on, don’t be a coward. If you’re going to lie to my face don’t hold back!” He was angry - way too angry - but Charles just left, leaving Vivian and Jake sitting in silence.

Vivian was looking at him coolly, and Jake defended, “He said he didn’t want to leave.”

She sighed, before saying, “Have you considered that he didn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying he wanted to leave? You two are very close, after all.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Jake shot back.

“Look, I don’t- I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on here. What I do know is that Charles cares about you, and Bernice cares for you. So, I’m just going to assume that this is frustration with the situation, and not at me. So… respect Charles’ decision, please. It’s not easy for him to leave all this behind.”

“Have you considered leaving your job behind for him to stay here?” Jake asked, anger gone from his voice, instead replaced with bitterness.

Vivian frowned. “It’s too much of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Would anything make you change your mind?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, “If someplace here could give me the same opportunities and resources, I would consider them. But that’s just not happening here.”

She stood, placing one hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I am sorry, Jacob. I know that this is difficult for you. But part of caring for someone is letting them make their own choices. Even if it hurts you personally.”

Jake watched as Vivian left, before getting up and leaving as well - the hostess glaring at him for having wasted the table space probably - before realizing that Charles had been the one to drive him there.

Groaning, he pulled out his phone. It was only a five minute walk to the nearest subway station, he’d be fine. As he started walking, however, Charles’ car pulled up next to him.

“Jake!” He said, “I’ll drive you home.”

Jake considered refusing - he was more than a little pissed off - but decided against deepening the divide that had popped up between them, and got in.

“I’m so sorry, Jake!” Charles said, before Jake had even finished closing the door. “I meant to tell her, I did! But then she was so happy about it I just… couldn’t do that to her.”

“But you could say that shit to me?” Jake retorted, before pausing. “Sorry, just… I’m a little too mad to have this conversation right now. Just… take me home, please.”

They drove in silence for a bit, before Jake couldn’t stand the quiet anymore.

“Charles, did you lie to me?” Jake frowned, “When you said you didn’t want to leave for Canada. Was that true, or did you just say that to make me feel better?”

“I didn’t.” Charles shook his head, “I do want to stay. I just… when I saw how sad she looked when you started talking I panicked. I didn’t mean to say those things - you know you’re important to me.”

“Yeah.” Jake replied, “I know. But, Vivian told me off after you left… and she’s saying the exact stuff I am. That you need to make your own decision, and that I need to be accepting of your decisions. And, I mean, if… if you did want to move, you’d tell me, right? You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.”

“I’m not.” Charles said determinedly, “I want to stay in Brooklyn.”

“Then tell her that.” Jake said sharply, “And don’t throw me under the bus about it.”

“Sorry.”

Jake sighed. “Look, it’s… it’s fine. I get it. Doms have a way of getting to us.”

“Yeah.” Charles frowned, “She doesn’t mean to, though.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s not doing it.” Jake replied bitterly. Then, after a moment, “What were you going to say? About me not thinking about stuff.”

“Oh.” Charles looked guilty, “I was… I was going to say that you don’t think a sub making sacrifices by their own choice is possible, but that I can. It just… I didn’t want to imply anything to Vivian, so… it worked out.”

“Oh.” Jake was oddly relieved about that - given his past, and how uncomfortably truthful Charles could get, he wasn’t really sure what was going to be said. Then another thing Charles said caught up to him. “Wait, you didn’t tell Vivian about my… previous relationship stuff?”

“No,” Charles shrugged, “You asked me not to talk about it with people, so… I didn’t.”

“But, you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah.” Charles shrugged, “But it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Oh.” Jake blinked, surprised. “Um, thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Charles shrugged. “Look, I’ll talk to her about Canada tomorrow. You should come with me again, just so I don’t bail.”

“Only if you promise not to go weird on me like that again.” He tried to joke, but it came out a bit too seriously to be taken as anything less than hurt.

Charles was nodding before he’d even finished talking, “Of course, Jake. It won’t happen again.”

“Great. Thanks.” Jake rubbed at his face tiredly.

Charles dropped him off at his apartment, and Jake went up to it, pulling out his phone to look at Bernice’s message telling him he could reach out.

Jake hesitated, then typed in, _Hey, you available to come over?_

He felt like a bit of a douche texting her so late, but he didn’t really feel like being alone right now.

Jake felt weird about the whole dinner, and even though he completely understood where Charles was coming from, it still bothered him. He was fine being at odds with people, but there was something that just… hurt him about doing what was asked of him but getting punished for it. And for it to have come from Charles, too, only made him feel worse about it. It felt like a betrayal, and Jake had to keep reminding himself not to take it personally.

His phone buzzed with an _omw_ , courtesy of Bernice, so he just shoved some of the mess out of sight under his bed and tried not to pace around the place.

Jake decided that he wasn’t going to talk to her about serious stuff tonight. He wasn’t really in a good mindset right now, and he didn’t think it was a good idea to have a real talk when he was so on edge.

By the time Bernice showed up, Jake had worked himself into even more of a stressed out state than before. He was practically radiating nervous energy as he let her in. She clearly picked up on it, eyebrows furrowing at his twitchiness.

“You alright?” She asked, putting her bag on a nearby chair.

“Yeah, just had a bad day.” Jake waved his hand, “Don’t worry about it. Did you eat already? I have some leftovers.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Bernice replied, before adding, “You seem upset.”

“Oh, sorry.” Jake replied automatically, “I’ve just… I didn’t want to be alone.” He chuckled awkwardly, fiddling with his shirt hem.

Her concern mixed with no small amount of nervousness.. “Did you drop?” She asked hesitantly, as if afraid of the possible answer.

“... Not yet.” Jake admitted meekly, “I just… sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m just feeling sort of weird today. I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” She replied, cutting him off before he had a chance to start spiraling. “Come on, we can just sit and chat, yeah? Or, watch a movie or something.” She gestured over her shoulder, uncomfortable smile in place.

“I don’t want to talk. Just… can we just sit? Not do anything, just… exist. For a bit.”

“Of course.” She nodded, sitting down onto the couch before hesitatingly - but kindly - asking, “Would you feel better if you knelt?”

Jake froze, before nodding embarrassedly. He grabbed a pillow, putting it at the floor by her feet and going to kneel by her side. He felt a bit ashamed of himself. He rarely, if ever, knelt for someone - except during sex - and even though he felt himself relax slightly at the motion, he still couldn’t help but feel a bit stupid for needing it.

Bernice seemed oblivious to his inner monologue. Instead, she just carefully reached out, hand hovering in the air for a moment above him - deliberating whether or not to touch - before opting to just rest her hand on his shoulder with a touch so light it was, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent.

Jake was practically bouncing with this weird, uncomfortable energy - he desperately wanted to be able to relax, but his brain just wouldn’t stop spinning. Even though kneeling helped, the benefits of it were being diminished by the fact that Bernice didn’t seem to know what to do. Well, actually, that wasn’t true - she did seem to know what to do theoretically, but not how to do it practically.

He didn’t resent her for it - during one of their late conversations, laying in bed and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist, she admitted that she’d never dated a sub before. She was straight, and since most men were doms… well, she just didn’t have that much experience. She wanted to, since she was a switch after all, and she was entitled to exploring both aspects, and Jake didn’t hold her naivety against her. After all, he figured it was better if she messed up on him - who was already so fucking broken that it wouldn’t make a difference - as opposed to some other sub.

Jake hadn’t told her that, though - he figured it would just make her more nervous about the whole thing - and just said that she’d done great so far.

Jake slowly leaned his head against her knee - giving time for her to move away if she wanted - but she didn’t comment on it. Her leg tensed as he first leant against it, and he glanced up at her, and she shot him a reassuring smile, hand squeezing on his shoulder momentarily.

Jake closed his eyes, wishing that he could just stop thinking for once in his life. That he could stop overanalyzing, that his stupid, emotional self from overreacting to every little fucking thing. He half-wanted Bernice to tighten her grip, or to command him, or to just… he wasn’t sure. Do something. He didn’t deserve her to do anything, but he wanted something anyway.

He felt too tight in his own skin, and he wanted so badly to just rip that skin off until he felt better. Jake felt his breath catch in his throat - wanting so badly for him to stop thinking.

“Jake? Are you okay?” Bernice asked - she was looking at him with open concern, and he became vaguely aware that he was shaking. “Come up to the couch, I’m going to get you a blanket.”

Jake considered refusing - he didn’t want to move, it was the first time he was on his knees since that one night stand and he hadn’t knelt for someone in years, he didn’t want to give it up now. It was a fleeting opportunity, and kneeling was making him feel slightly nauseous - as if he was going to vomit from the anxiety lingering under his skin - but he wanted to succeed so badly. He had to do this correctly.

But instead, he obliged, moving up to sit beside her - he didn’t want to make her life more difficult, just because he was a fucking mess didn’t mean she had to deal with it.

Bernice seemed unsure of what to do, grabbing a blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders.

“What do you need me to do?” She asked, pulling him into a hug beside her.

Jake melted into her arms, still feeling too tight in his skin.

“Can you… can you command me?” He asked quietly, face burning with embarrassment.

“Uh… to do what?”

Jake didn’t know how to respond. “Just… something.”

“Oh… I don’t think that’s a good idea?” Bernice frowned, “You don’t seem like you’re in the right headspace for that right now.”

Jake bit his tongue - she didn’t seem to grasp that the fact he was so off was why he needed it, and he would point that out except he just felt a bit too weird about it. No to mention, if she just didn’t feel comfortable commanding him, he wasn’t going to insist on it.

“Okay.” He replied finally, “I guess… yeah.”

Bernice just kept holding him, her gentle touch kind.

He didn’t deserve her kindness - he wanted her to hurt him, _punish_ him for being so fucking broken - but he didn’t dare ask for anything more than what she offered.

He was a little bit too hurt about the whole situation - more than he could really ever admit, without also acknowledging the fact that betraying trust was one of the biggest issues for him in existence, and that Charles doing so - even though Jake fully understood the situation - had gotten to him way more than he was even entirely sure of understanding himself.

Even though he knew that Charles wasn’t at fault, it didn’t change this weird sense of being thrown - in part, he assumed, from the fact that he really only trusted Charles, Gina, Rosa, and maybe - _maybe_ \- the rest of the team. There was a point where the idea of trusting even one person was absurd to him, but now here he was, upset about feeling betrayed over something that wasn’t even a betrayal.

He and Bernice would definitely have to have a real talk next time, since she clearly noticed his… offness. But tonight was not the night, and he decided not to even think about it right now - his priority for the moment was to, selfishly, seek a sense of peace. He was essentially using Bernice, something he felt guilty for - despite the knowledge that she was fine with it - and decided that he would do something to make it up for her. He wasn’t in the mood for sex, but it was the least he could do to make it up to her for having to deal with him. Jake knew that mentality probably wasn’t healthy, but since when did healthiness determine his actions?

As the movie - Con Air, nice - started up, Bernice continued to hold him in a gentle hug. At some point, Jake closed his eyes, just for a moment to relish the contact he so often denied himself - but when he opened them again it was much later. Another Cage movie was on, now, and it was muted. Bernice’s arm was loose around him.

Jake turned to look up at her, embarrassedly wiping the drool off of his mouth, only to see that she, too, had fallen asleep, head leaning back on the couch, snoring slightly.

Jake got up, wincing as his back voiced its objection to sleeping on the couch, and gently shook her awake.

“Mm?” She mumbled, bringing up her hand to wipe at her face. ‘Wha?”

“Hey, we fell asleep.” Jake said, “Do you want to sleep on the bed instead?”

“Myeah.”

The pair shuffled to the bedroom, Bernice flopping down onto it. Jake felt a sleepy smile cross his face, before curling up into bed as well. Despite being half-asleep, Bernice pulled him against her, one hand migrating to loop itself around his stomach as she resumed her snoring almost instantaneously.

Jake closed his heavy eyelids, gladly drifting off to sleep. He vaguely recalled having been upset about something, but he was much too tired to remember what it was.

\------  
When Jake woke up, it was to Bernice curled around him.

He didn’t really want to leave, but he had to take Charles to see Vivian - leaving Bernice a note. They were off work, so he had nothing better to do than make sure his friend talked it out with Vivian.

Jake met Charles at his place, loading him into the car and driving to Vivian’s - ignoring Charles’ flip-flopping between trying to convince Jake he did in fact want to go to Canada, and his threatening to jump out of the car.

Charles wouldn’t - Jake had child-locked the car doors in prevention of that very thing.

After Charles tried to make a run for it - twice - Jake manhandled him to Vivian’s door, ringing the doorbell.

Vivian opened it, dressed casually. “Chuck!” She said cheerfully, before looking to Jake - her annoyance from the previous night gone. “Jacob.” She acknowledged.

“Charles needs to talk to you about Canada. And you need to listen.” Jake said firmly - Charles casting him a nervous glance before stepping forward.

Vivian raised an eyebrow, but stepped aside. “Do you intend to join the conversation?” She asked.

“No. This is about you two. I’ll be in the car.” Jake gestured to it, biting back the automatic _just in case_ that wanted to add itself to the end of his statement.

Vivian and Charles went inside, and Jake got back into his car, slumping down in the seat. He played on his phone for what felt like hours, before he heard the door open - he looked up, and saw Charles walking towards him.

Charles got into the car, sitting down silently.

“Buddy?” Jake asked cautiously.

“I’m not going to Canada.” Charles said stiffly. “We both have careers to think of.”

“I’m so sorry.” Jake wasn’t sure what to say, “This must be difficult for you.”

“It’s fine.” Charles shrugged, “I’m… I knew what I was doing.” Then, he turned to give a small, tight-lipped smile to Jake. “Can you drive me home? I want to be by myself.”

Jake started the car, even as he asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want to leave you and have you drop, or anything.”

“I’m fine.” Charles shrugged, “I just need to destress. Unless your kitchen has a salad spinner?”

“Your place it is!” Jake replied, trying to inject some levity into the situation. Charles didn’t respond, and they drove back in silence.

Jake offered to stay with Charles - and then offered again too, for good measure. But he refused - he wanted to be by himself. And - although Jake didn’t feel like it was a good idea - he eventually obliged, but only because Charles pointed out that having another sub around if he did drop would just make it worse. Still, jake gave him a warning that he would be calling every hour to make sure he was holding up alright.

As Jake left a suspiciously chill Charles, his phone began buzzing again. Bernice had just woken up and wanted to talk.

As he bemoaned the price of gas, Jake drove back to his apartment. Seriously, if he had known he was going to be traveling this much, he would have filled his tank this morning. Still, he showed up pretty quickly - well, quickly given New York traffic, anyway - and entered to see Bernice sitting at a dining table chair, coffee in hand.

She gestured to the pot, and Jake poured some for himself as well.

Once he sat down, she let out a sigh. “Jake… we need to talk.”

He stiffened - had she somehow found out about his past? He had been planning on telling her, but-

“Vivian texted me.” She said, “The wedding is cancelled?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Charles doesn’t want to move to Canada, so they had to end it.” Jake replied. “You were going to be one of the bridesmaids, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Bernice frowned, “Look… I… I’m Vivian’s friend, you know? I like Charles, he’s very sweet, but my friendship loyalty is to her. And, well,” She looked pained, “You’re Charles’ best friend. You’re my friend’s now-ex’s best friend. It’s a bit… messy.”

“Yeah, I guess that is a little weird for us going forward.” Jake chuckled awkwardly, wishing he couldn’t see exactly where this was headed. The inevitable conclusion that was going to be reached, no matter how much he wished it wouldn’t.

“I don’t think… it would be right of me to continue dating you. I’d just feel weird about it, you know? Like I’m betraying her.”

“No, I get it.” Jake replied automatically, even as his brain started gearing up to slam itself into his skull. “We’ve got our friends to think of.”

“No hard feelings?” She asked sheepishly.

“Nope, all good.” He replied with an attempt at a smile - dropping it when it came off far too pained.

Bernice stood, giving him a hug. “I am sorry, Jake. I hoped that… well, I wish you the best.”

“Same.” He replied briefly, watching as the first person he’d actually connected to in four years walk out the door.

The moment it clicked shut, he practically fled to his bedroom, throwing himself underneath all of the blankets. He supposed it was a good thing he hadn’t told her about his past. It was stupid of him to trust someone, anyone. Even someone who Charles recommended. It was a mistake - and he made so very many of them - and he harshly told himself that he would not make the same one again.

Jake didn’t call Charles - he didn’t want to tell him what had happened. Charles was getting over a fucking engagement, his own troubles were nothing compared to that. Besides, he knew how guilty his friend would be if he found out the person he’d recommended had broken up with Jake because of his breakup.

Not that it was Charles’ fault in any sense - no, it was Jake’s own fault.

He should never have accepted the offer to go on a date in the first place.

He knew better - he _knew_ what sort of shit happened when he tried to date. Jake reminded himself - quite strictly - that he had gotten lucky. That Bernice could have blamed him for Charles and Vivian ending it, could have hurt him, punished him for having been so arrogant as to believe he deserved affection.

Jake curled into a ball under the sheets, squeezing his eyes shut against the too-bright world around him as his body began to shake.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

But he did know that he deserved nothing.

_notes: the chapter notes aren't loading? idk dude. sorry for anyone who liked Bernice, but next chapter is going to be 'the bet' and maybe some other stuff i haven't decided yet. also comments are super appreciated, this chapter is like 6k words so that was fun, and reminder not to send "update faster/hurry up" comments please :D_


	14. Chapter 14

Jake grinned as Amy stepped out of her apartment complex wearing a blue dress and a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re making me wear this.” She complained. “This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you lost!” Jake replied cheerfully, “Come on, there’s plenty of embarrassing to do and only a few hours to do it in.”

“You’re the worst. Can’t we get this over with?”

“Nope! The date starts now and goes until midnight. I control what you wear, do, and where we go. And, there is one more rule,” Jake added, “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

“Won’t be a problem.” Amy replied scathingly, getting into his car.

After a distinctly weird party - Charles’ words about him wanting attention from Amy ringing in his head - he and Amy were sent off on a stakeout.

Jake was a bit annoyed about that - he had wanted to get to spend time with Amy… great, now everything sounded like a plea for attention. Thanks a lot, Charles - but still, at least he got to take Amy with him. He could keep up his shenanigans. And keep up his subtle test of something that had been bothering him for a while.

They were sitting on a rooftop, staring at an empty alleyway. Now that they were back on the clock, their rapport fell back to normal. Jake found himself preferring it - he didn’t really like ordering Amy around. As fun as it was to embarrass her, it just felt… he wasn’t sure. Half of him relished it, but the other half of him… well, he felt almost _guilty_ about it.

“So happy to be out of that dress.” Amy said, breaking the silence - silence that was much more comfortable than the one previously on the way to Charles’ party.

Jake fiddled with the binoculars, suddenly uncomfortable. “Did it really bother you that much?” His voice came out unsure, awkward.

She sighed, pausing for a moment. The pause weighed on him, heavy in its silence. He could feel her eyes on him, and he stared resolutely at the alleyway, unable or unwilling to meet her gaze.

She seemed like she was about to make a joke, but thought better of it.

“I mean, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” She said finally, before adding, “It’s more of a hurt pride sort of thing.” Seeing that his expression didn’t change, she nudged his side. “I know that if it had really made me upset, you wouldn’t have made me do it.”

“How do you know I would?” Jake asked, “Our bet was anything. I could have made you wear it, whether you liked it or not. Right?”

“Well, sure.” Amy laughed lightly, “But that’s not the kind of person you are, Jake. Obviously.” Her tone was amused, like he was telling some sort of joke.

Jake turned to her, frowning heavily. Her lips were turned upwards into a slight smile, and she seemed relaxed beside him. He was all too aware of how his body was ramrod straight, shoulders tensed up around his ears, grip white on the forgotten binoculars.

“I’m serious, Amy.” He said

Her smile faded slightly, and her growing frown matched his.

“Just… I mean,” He rubbed his hand through his hair, “If you said you… didn’t want to wear the dress, I wouldn’t have had to let you not wear it. Right? Because I won the bet. I had all the power here.” He meant for his voice to be firm, but it came out stumbling.

Amy’s frown deepened. “But would you? Have made me.”

“No,” Jake admitted, breaking eye contact to glare at the alley, hating himself for the swell of revulsion at the thought of doing that to her. “Fuck.” He muttered, kicking at the rooftop with a scowl. “Fuck!”

“Hey.” Amy said, hand touching his arm. “What brings this up?”

“I…” Jake shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” Amy replied, hand gentle on his arm. He hated how he wanted to lean into it. “You can talk to me.”

“I just…” He felt his face go red, “I wanted to see how doms could do it.”

“Do what?” Her voice pitched with confusion.

“I- make people do things they don’t want.” Seeing Amy open her mouth in objection, Jake rushed to explain further, “I mean, like, doms have the power right? So they can make subs do whatever they want. And I guess… since I had all the power here, I could do that too. To see what it is that makes you all like it. But it’s not… I can’t make it work!” He drew his arm away from her hand, not wanting to let himself enjoy the touch.

“Jake,” Amy’s voice was sympathetic, “That’s not how it works.”

“The fuck it’s not!” Jake retorted.

“Please, Jake.” She sounded pained, “That’s not… that’s not what it is at all.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, gesticulating for her to continue.

“Doms aren’t supposed to _force_ subs to do anything. It’s- that’s a major violation of trust.” She frowned, “A sub entrusts themselves to a dom, and the dom has the obligation to respect those. No matter what, a dom isn’t supposed to do something that a sub doesn’t want them to. A sub’s trust is a _gift_ , an ultimate privilege. They _choose_ to give up control to their doms, that their dom will take care of them. Anyone who breaks that trust, who forces their sub to do something they don’t want to- to, to, to _weaponize_ that trust against their sub?” Her voice was slowly raising, “They’re not a dom, they’re an abuser. The worst kind of abuser - and no sub ever deserves to have that trust broken. To be- I-” She paused, taking a breath.

Jake had to admit, he hadn’t seen her this angry in a while. Not since he’d accidentally knocked over her binder when it was unclipped - ruining her day’s worth of organized filing - but even then, he hadn’t seen her quite this impassioned. He was taken aback by it.

Maybe he’d never seen her this angry at all.

“A sub’s trust is the single most precious gift a dom can be given. It’s an ultimate privilege, and it can’t be bought or owned. It’s… it requires time, and effort, trust, and… and no one’s entitled to it. No one. To take that gift and just… just use it to hurt the sub who trusts you… I… it’s revolting.”

He felt lost.

“I just want to understand why he-” Jake cut himself off, mouth snapping shut hard enough that his teeth clacked. “I just want to know how doms can do that to subs.” He corrected, grimacing.

“No decent dom could ever do something like that to their sub. Abusers will always find ways to abuse. And some of them are willing to go that far, but it’s _never_ right to do that to a sub. No one should be treated that way.” She was staring at him intently.

Jake couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at how angry she was on his behalf - not that she knew that, of course. He didn’t believe her, not fully - how could he? She was a dom, after all, and even if she claimed that doms weren’t supposed to hurt, how did he know she wasn’t lying? He was being irrational, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. He just… he had to keep digging, until she cracked and he could see how she was just like… his old dom. Like so many of the doms he’d met. She had to be - he didn’t know how he would react if she wasn’t.

“And you don’t? You’re some fantastic, perfect dom who never breaks their sub’s trust? Not even when you want something?” He injected some skepticism into his tone, but given the way Amy smiled sadly at him, she saw through that.

“I’m not perfect, much as I try to be.” She shrugged. “I do my absolute best. I’m sure I’ll make mistakes, and I have before. Bu tI would _never_ intentionally cause harm or discomfort to my sub. That’s why things like safewords and communication are so important. And… I hope that, if I ever did make a mistake, my sub would feel safe talking to me about it. A sub should never be afraid of their dom, and certainly never so much that they wouldn’t be able to talk to me about something as important as that.” She paused, “And I would certainly never violate that trust over something as insignificant as a personal want.”

Jake felt himself blush. He’d never heard a dom… talk like that before. Sure, he’d been to Sex Ed and all, where the teachers give a spiel about safewords and power exchange, but to hear an actual dom believe in it so deeply… he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by Amy, or just amused she bought into it.

“I…” His throat felt oddly choked up - he stared at the alleyway some more, until he was able to formulate a thought. “I didn’t realize doms actually believed that.”

“Some of us do. The good ones do, certainly - although I wouldn’t be so arrogant as to call myself one-”

“It’s not arrogant of you.” He replied automatically, “You’re exactly what a dom should be.”

Amy was struck silent.

It was true, Jake knew. He hadn’t really thought about it until he said it out loud, but he somehow knew it was true the moment it had left his lips.

Amy was everything a sub could dream of. She was insanely smart, clever, witty, not to mention gorgeous. She was passionate, could take a joke and dish it in kind. She never fucked with him - as a friend to a friend, yes, of course, but as a dom to a sub? Never. - not to mention if she could put up with him being her deskmate for this long, it was no question she could handle anyone. Amy was wonderful. She made him feel hope that maybe not every dom is going to try to hurt him. That maybe he would find someone who would treat him… well, maybe like an equal was too much to ask for, but like a person, at least. It’d be a step up from property, after all.

Jake would bet everything in his entire life - not much, but still - that Amy would treat her sub like an equal. Treat _him_ like an eq-

Jake shot upright with a bolt - huh, when had he started leaning down? Not going to think about that - he busied himself with rummaging through his duffel, pulling out a bag of peanuts, tossing one into his mouth. “Getting snacky.” He said with a forced grin, offering her the bag.

“Oh,” Amy blinked, then accepted some, trying to toss it into her mouth and failing miserably. “Thanks.” She said, adding, "Seriously. I- thanks.”

Jake made a noncommittal noise in his throat, as his phone began to ring. “Keep practicing.” He said over his shoulder as he moved away to pick up the phone.

As Holt informed him that there were some other officers bale to trade off, Jake hesitated. Amy was still trying to toss peanuts into her mouth - because he had told her to, but because she had wanted to, too - and felt a strange twinge of something painfully close to hope in his chest.

“No, thanks. I think we’re onto something.”

Jake hung up, walking back to Amy.

“Check it out!” She said brightly, tossing a handful into the air and catching one. “It’s about volume.” She said confidently, offering him the bag back.

“Nice.” Jake replied with a grin - of course she’d do something like that, it was so on-brand for her.

“So, what was that about?” She asked, tilting her head towards where he had been standing.

“Oh, just Holt. He said we were going to be stuck here for a while.”

“Darn.” She grinned, “No high school prom photos at the mall. I don’t know how I’ll survive.”

Jake grinned back. “If you really want to, you can put that dress back on for the stakeout. I think I’ve got my bow tie in the duffel.”

Amy laughed, “No, definitely not.”

“You sure? We’ve got prom-quality snacks right here.” He said, tossing a peanut into his mouth.

“You’re really good at that.” Amy commented, glancing over to the alley.

Jake felt a rush of warmth at the praise, and guiltily revels in it - not just because he was better at it than her, but because she had complimented him. Just because she could. He had earned her praise.

“Jake,” She said slowly, pulling him out of his guilty reverie, “Look, I… you don’t have to answer me, and I won’t hold it against you if you don’t, but, well… I guess, I’m just curious about something. You and Bernice…”

Jake stiffened.

“I mean, you two were going out for a while, I thought, but-”

“It’s over.” he said shortly. “It’s been over.”

“Oh.” Amy replied, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. “Sorry, I just- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date anyone other than her, in our times of knowing each other.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not marriage material, I suppose. More the fuck around and dump kind.” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll die alone!” He cracked a bitter smile, but she didn’t return it.

“Jake, you’re a good person.” Amy sounded so certain that he found himself wanting to believe every word she said, “I can’t pretend to know what kind of relationships you look for, but I don’t see how anyone could not want to spend their life with you.”

“It doesn’t matter what I look for, there are some things that doms just can’t… there are some things they want that I just can’t do. And no one wants to long-term with a sub who won’t even… um, won’t meet their needs, I guess.” he finished lamely, biting back his shameful admittance - that no one wants to long-term with a sub who won’t even subspace.

“Jake,” Amy began, but Jake cut her off.

“Check it out,” he pointed to the alleyway, “There’s the van.”

“Come on.” She said, pulling up the ring he had jokingly given her that morning. “I have a plan.”

One embarrassingly faux-intoxicated conversation later, Jake and Amy were sitting in the car.

“I’m glad you two worked it out!” The perp said cheerfully. Amy rolled her eyes but didn’t correct him. Jake hated himself for how he felt a little bit happy at that.

Amy showed him ten seconds of kindness and now he was obsessed with her. The idea of a dom who… who cared about a sub’s wishes. About _his_ wishes. It made him feel practically giddy at the thought - too hopeful, really. He had to be realistic. There was only one Amy he knew - and she didn’t deserve someone broken like him anyway.

How would that even go? _“Hey, Amy, you’re great and you probably won’t fucking mess with me, which, according to you was straight up abuse, so that’s fun. Anyway, I like you, but only after you said you won’t hurt me, so that’s a low fucking bar. Oh, by the way, I can’t even subspace. So all of your hard work to maintain my trust won’t even have any sort of reward for you.”_

Jake hated himself for how he was still kind of tempted to do it anyway. He was so fucking selfish. He didn’t deserve taking one of the good doms out there - Amy deserved a good sub, and a good sub deserved her. Not him. Never him.

Jake drove Amy back to her apartment. She seemed like she wanted to say something to him, so he kept the time filled with inane chatter. He already felt stupid for having mentioned anything to her in the first place. Even though it had made him feel better, he might as well have held up a neon sign saying “I’m fucked up!” on it. Well, not really, since that would have alerted the perps to their presence, but still. Basically the same thing.

When he finally stopped the car, Amy didn’t get out.

“Look, Jake…” Amy turned to face him. “If you ever want to talk, I’m… I’m here for you. And, just so you know, I… I don’t repeat things I’ve been told in private.”

It was as if she could see directly into his fears, and eased them without ever making it seem like she knew about them in the first place. Jake could feel himself falling for her with every passing moment.

“Yeah, for sure.” He replied automatically, watching as she smiled at him before opening the car door.

“Have a good night, Jake.” She said kindly, before adding. “I’m absolutely creaming you in our next competition, though.”

“‘I’m absolutely creaming you’, title of your sex tape.” He replied with a grin at Amy’s back.

He heard her laugh, her shaking her head as she walked up the steps to the door.

Jake waited until she entered the apartment complex before leaving, hands twitching on his steering wheel. He felt like he was floating.

Oh, fuck. This was a _crush_. He had a fucking crush on Amy.

Fuck.

Oh, he was absolutely fucked.

 _Fuck_.

_Fuck!_

Jake slammed his hand down on his steering wheel, furious with himself. He was an idiot. He shouldn’t have- he should’ve- fuck, it dind’t matter. It was too late.

As if his life wasn’t hard enough already.

Fuck.

Tears stung at his eyes, and he grimaced, pulling over. He was way too much of a fucking mess to drive right now. He rubbed at his eyes, frustrated - but his frustration only made him more tears fill his eyes.

Great. Now he was _crying_. He laughed mirthlessly, hating himself for how his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t- he hadn’t been delusional. He knew that maybe, not every dom was like… well. But, to hear it from Amy… he choked on a sob. Fuck. He had really fucked up. His old dom was garbage, he knew that - but to have Amy say he didn’t deserve it? That it shouldn’t have happened?

It was too much. It was all too much.

Amy didn’t even know, though. He hadn’t even told her, but she- would she change her mind if she knew about him? Would she still think he didn’t deserve it if she knew how much of a bad sub he was? He clenched his jaw until it ached, closing his eyes against the world. Acceptance was conditional. It always was. Always.

But Amy… Amy was incredible. She wouldn’t hate him for being broken.

Sure, she wouldn’t hate him.

But she’d never want him.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

It always came back to that, didn't it. No one hated him for being broken. No one minded a quick screw with him. But long term? Meeting the parents? Marriage? None of that was ever an option for him. And it was wrong of him to have feelings for her, knowing that he would never be able to meet her needs. Never be able to give himself to her the way she deserved from him.

Never be able to sub for her.

Despite all of that knowledge, though, he still felt his newfound affection for her burning away inside of his chest, resolute in making his heart flutter at the thought of her.

Well. This was fucking perfect. Just what he needed. His life wasn't hard enough already, after all.

Jake had feelings. For Detective Amy Santiago.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! how exciting :D
> 
> i know i havent updated in a while sry abt that, another fandom got new content and i've been busy with that. glad to be back to this fic tho! going to be moving into s2 now, and definitely going to pick up speed (i know this is a slow burn but still, i want to write some peraltiago already)
> 
> i love comments! i get a lot of views on this fic but comments are especially great bc i crave validation! (pls no "hurry up/update faster" comments however) <3


	15. Chapter 15

Jake opened his eyes to an all-too familiar room. Walls that were slate gray closed around him, the warm yellow light illuminating the room from its fixture hanging from the ceiling. He turned his head to the side, already knowing that he would see the nightstand with a small lamp, glasses, and whatever book Ethan had been reading most recently.

He shouldn’t be here.

Jake tried to sit up, but a jerk of metal on his wrists stopped him - he was handcuffed to the headboard. They were probably his own cuffs - Ethan didn’t like to use his for non-work purposes.

Jake figured it was more just that he didn’t want to have to go through the effort of explaining why there’s his serial number embedded in Jake’s wrist. He’d never minded some pain to go with his pleasure, and Ethan was always _so_ mouthwateringly good at combining the two.

Speaking of, Ethan was straddling him, one hand planted on his hip, the other stroking the side of Jake’s face lovingly.

“You’re such a good sub,” He murmured seductively, pressing one knee between Jake’s spread thighs. Jake moaned and tilted his head slightly - whether from the compliment or from the pressure, he honestly didn’t know. Didn’t Care. Either way, Ethan took advantage of the opportunity, leaning forward and beginning to mark a hickey into his exposed neck.

Jake became aware of the heady, euphoric feeling of subspace surrounding him, washing over him gently. Wrapping him in its wonderful, comfortable floating. His eyes half-closed, Jake stared at Ethan in unabashed wonder.

Jake loved him.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” He drawled, raking his eyes over Jake’s body appreciatively. “I have the most beautiful sub in the world.”

Jake smiled, warm at the compliments - no cheeky response to be had, he was fully in subspace - and lifted up his head to kiss him.

“Oh,” Ethan leaned back, smiling teasingly, “Eager, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Jake murmured, body practically twitching with the urge to have more contact. He felt like he was floating in nothingness, he wanted - he needed - physical contact like it was water in a desert.

“Well,” Ethan finally leaned down, kissing Jake for a moment before pulling away - Jake following after him, biting back a whine - and adding, in a voice dripping with pure sex, “I’d hate to keep my sub waiting.”

_My sub._

Jake felt his smile grew wider - he was so happy in this moment that his chest _ached_. The subspace giving him that odd feeling of floating, like he was only grounded by the bits of contact between him and his dom. If his dom stopped touching him he would simply… float in nothingness. Jake craved more touch, wanted it so badly it almost hurt. But in a good way, sorta - he knew he would get that touch eventually, if he behaved. He bit back the sounds of pleasure trying to leave his throat - making noise wasn’t well-behaved, after all.

As Ethan’s hands and mouth worked their way down Jake’s body, the bound sub slowly became aware of a strange pain. This wasn’t the delightful, exciting pain. No, this _hurt._

With a groan of pain - managing to slip past his urge to keep quiet -, Jake craned up his head, looking down to see Ethan sliding down his body slowly. His hands and mouth leaving raw, broken skin behind.

“Ow, wait, something’s wrong,” Jake said urgently, voice tinging with panic. “Stop.”

Ethan looked up to him - but his face looked off, like it was moving on its own. He smiled, but it looked distinctly menacing. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you.”

“Right.” Jake said, trying to force himself to relax. “Because you’re my dom.”

“Yes.” The hands were stopped on his hips, still hurting just a bit but it seemed to have stopped for a moment, “You’re my sub.”

“I’m your sub.” Jake repeated, noting that the room had gotten much more dim - the wallpaper several shades darker than it had been. The floaty feeling of subspace was still there, even though he was fully cognisant, thinking and talking like he normally would at work, rather than in the midst of foreplay. That wasn’t normal, and Jake was once again reminded that he wasn’t supposed to be here. He felt like he hadn’t been in this apartment for ages, hadn’t felt Ethan’s touch in years.

Jake furrowed his eyebrows. Why was he here? A pit of some sort of visceral fear began to manifest itself, slowly forming inside of him and directing him to… something. There was a reason his mind was screaming _danger_ even as his body remained lax.

“Jake, you’re going to have to stop thinking so much.” Ethan said. His voice was still sweet, but now sickly so. Jake felt tears come unbidden to his eyes as the hands stayed in place, burning away his skin, his flesh.

“Please stop.” Jake whispered - despite the pain, he seemed to be physically unable to scream, his voice coming out in a whisper.

“You’re my sub, aren’t you?” His voice dripped with ice - a contrast to the burning pain that seemed to be splitting Jake’s flesh down to the bone.

“Yes,” Jake replied immediately, earnestly. Pleadingly.

“Tell me.”

“I’m your sub.”

“I don’t believe you.” Ethan was scowling, now. Jake hated the bit of panic that set in at that, temporarily distracting him. “My sub would never break subspace just for that.”

“I’m still in subspace though.” Jake frowned - the floaty feeling was still there.

The instant the words left his mouth Jake felt a burning pain across his face, like he’d been slapped - but both of Ethan’s hands were still on his hips. His face was searing hot, and he swore he could feel it blistering. At least it distracted from the pain seeping into his torso for the moment.

“I’m sorry.” Jake apologized immediately, “I’m your sub.” Trying to inject something into it - to remind Ethan that he loved him, that he was Ethan’s so Ethan didn’t have to keep hurting him, he didn’t know. Even as the words came out of Jake’s mouth his mind could remember something akin to agony in the back of his mind, pleading to be let out.

Ethan shook his head. “I don’t understand how you could be my sub. My sub is good. And you’re being _bad_.” He punctuated the end of his sentence by digging his nails into the burned flesh.

“I’m not- bad I’m-” The fuzziness in Jake’s head was turning into a painful pounding, as if he was hammering at his own skull trying to break out, “I’m your sub.”

His laughter was mocking.

Jake felt burning blossom from where his hands were on his hips, spreading out over his body. As it spread up to his face, the burning sensation constricted around his throat, choking him. He reached to his neck with his hands - the handcuffs were gone - and his hands landed on the burning hot metal of a collar.

His collar.

Ethan’s collar.

It was searing hot, burning his skin and even his fingers as he tried to pull it off. But he couldn’t - it was stuck, latch locked in place. He looked up to Ethan pleadingly, who was watching him with a sort of bored interest.

“Make it stop.” Jake pleaded, voice cracking, “Please, make it stop.”

“Why?” Ethan asked, one hand coming up to stroke at the side of Jake’s face, touch gentle but so hot he was sure it was blistering his skin even more. “I like my collar on you.”

The words that had used to make Jake's toes curl now sent a jolt of fear coursing through him, along with the amplifying pain.

“It hurts.” Jake gasped out, “It hurts.”

Ethan leaned down, kissing Jake forcefully, lips leaving behind nothing but pain, “But that’s my favorite part, silly.”

Jake could feel the collar burning onto his skin, searing itself so fully that it would be impossible to remove. Cauterizing itself into his neck. Jake could feel it seeping under his skin - where his skin had been, anyway - rooting itself down. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was burning to his bones, at this rate.

“I like it.” Ethan said, ignoring Jake’s choked whimpers of pain - it hurt too much to cry out anymore. “Now you’re going to be my sub forever. No one’s getting that off of you.”

The collar burned too hot, too tight.

Jake couldn’t breathe.

“You aren’t going to be able to leave me again, now. You’re mine. You belong to me!” Ethan snarled, one hand grabbing Jake’s wrist and forcing it away from his neck.

“I wasn’t-” Jake tried to plead, but Ethan shoved his fingers into Jake’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue and effectively silencing him.

Jake didn’t dare bite down - he knew what would happen to him if he did - even as the sides of his mouth and top of his tongue began to blister.

“I thought I had taught you to be quiet.” Ethan’s voice was rich with threat, and Jake would have flinched from it, save for the fact that his body hurt too much.

“I’m going to have to punish you now.” Ethan decided, getting up.

Jake stared at him, eyes pleading. Even though his mouth was free, he didn’t dare speak. He couldn’t even feel his tongue. He tasted blood.

“This is going to be harder on me than it is on you.” Ethan said, grin stretching wide across his face as he moved to the closet.

Somehow, Jake doubted that.

As the door opened, Jake closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this. He wanted to not be here.

Ethan’s hand wrapped on a ring of Jake’s collar, giving it a tug, and Jake’s head jerked to the side.

Blinding pain shot across Jake’s face, and he jolted to his feet - knocking back the chair he was sitting in, barely noticing as it crashed to the ground behind him. The edge of a table looked innocently back at him, his cup of herbal tea - long since gone cold - still sitting, half-drunk, atop it.

Jake sucked in air, bringing up one hand to feel around his neck, checking for the collar he knew wasn’t there. His other hand began picking at the end of his shirt mercilessly, in a desperate attempt at self-soothing.

Despite feeling nothing but his own sweaty, clammy skin, Jake was unable to relax. He looked down, before suddenly lifting up his shirt, checking the skin of his front for any sign of burns.

He was being irrational.

He knew that.

There was no buzz of subspace, and the racing of his mind did help to assuage his concern on that front, even as his nerves still refused to settle.

Fuck, Ethan never even did anything with fire, he didn’t know why he was so caught up on this. Still, the sight of his own, unblemished - well, unburned, anyway - skin reassured him slightly. With an irritated groan, Jake dropped the edge of his shirt, leaning down and picking up his chair.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that - his back was going to regret it tomorrow. It already twinged at the movement of putting it back up. He really should just go to bed.

Jake hesitated.

He didn’t really want to sleep anymore.

Sure, he was exhausted.

But he didn’t want to sleep.

Jake picked up his cold cup, padding over to the kitchen sink and dumping its contents down the drain.

“So much for that,” He muttered under his breath, before flinching - and then hating himself for doing so.

He placed the cup down - okay, closer to slammed but he hadn’t meant to do that - and wandered towards his bedroom. Copping out at the last moment and ducking into the bathroom instead.

He justified to himself that he was doing this because he needed to brush his teeth again. Not to prolong the inevitability of sleep.

Jake turned on the light, squinting against the brightness. His reflection stared at him in the mirror, eyes haunted.

His hand flitted up, unconsciously, to his bare neck - an attempt to remind him that he was safe.

Jake looked away.

When Bernice had broken up with him, he’d expected Ethan to show up in his dreams. For him to crack that smile - which used to be warm but had turned so fucking cruel - and threaten Jake with a good time. Good time for himself, certainly. When he hadn’t showed, Jake had thought - okay, hoped - that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to move on from the Bernice thing without one of these fucking dreams cropping up. Why it was hitting now, after he and Amy finished that stupid Bet date, he had no idea.

Seems he was, once again, getting the worst possible end of the bargain.

First a crush on his coworker - not just any coworker, but _Amy_ , who was the closest thing he had to decent competition in his life - and now, a fucking nightmare about his ex.

Great.

Still, Jake had to admit, his dreams were usually a bit more… memory-induced trauma flashbacks than whatever sort of abstract bullshit that was about. While the whole “burning his flesh to the bone” part was a bit troubling, Jake found himself slightly relieved nonetheless. He could handle abstract horror. He was distinctly less okay with the memories of his worst moments on repeat as they so often were when it came to Ethan.

Jake’s hand snaked up to touch at his neck again, before he flung his hand away, mentally scoffing. How fucked up was that? To be grateful for one nightmare instead of another.

Jake brushed his teeth - checking his mouth to note that, while it wasn’t burned, he had chewed on the inside of his cheek to the point of bleeding. Perfect. Looked like he had to skip on the mouthwash, then.

All too soon, Jake had finished. He needed to go back to the bedroom. He was exhausted.

His own weary eyes looked back at him as he brought himself to look in the mirror, and he grimaced.

Jake lifted up his shirt, checking the skin of his chest and stomach in the mirror again. Still no burns - of course not, he hadn’t expected there to be any, but still. If anyone would figure out how to travel through dreams just to hurt Jake, it would be Ethan.

Assuming Ethan even remembered he existed.

Jake sincerely hoped not, but he doubted he was so lucky.

His hand touched his neck again. Of course it had to do with the fucking collar. A lot of his more… abstract nightmares had to do with that.

Ownership was not a good look on a human being, if Jake did say so himself. Of course, the collar wasn’t supposed to be about that. Sort of. Well, it was, kind of, but it had other implications too. Whatever. Collars were supposed to be a good thing. That was the point he was trying to make with himself.

Fact was, what it meat for him didn’t match up with what it meant for every other sub on the fucking planet. It used to, sure. If he cast his mind back, he could remember the moments of joy.

Jake groaned, rubbing at his face. He was too tired to think about this stuff. Reminiscing on the old days, when he was still naive and eager and not fucking _broken_ wasn’t going to magically bring it back. It wasn’t going to fix anything. All it would do is make him hate himself even more.

Well. There was no delaying the inevitable.

He went to his bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. Flopping onto his bed, Jake rolled under the blankets and stared at the wall.

After 40 minutes, he resigned himself to the fact that sleep wasn’t coming. He sat up, checking his phone. _3:02_. He dithered, not wanting to bother anyone with a text. Who would he even text, anyway?

Certainly not Amy.

He really only wanted to talk to her though.

But fuck if that was going to happen.

She _did_ say she was there if he wanted to talk.

He doubted she meant at this time, though.

Jake decided that he was just too… off from the whole nightmare. He didn’t want to accidentally overshare or something just because he felt safe around Amy.

That safety was an illusion, he reminded himself.

With a groan, Jake tossed his phone aside, lying back down and hoping for sleep. Hoping that the nightmares would stay away for the rest of the night.

As it worked out, he had no more nightmares. Mainly because he had no more sleep, but that’s not important. Jake counted it as a win.

He had to admit, he hadn’t noticed how many little pockmarks there were in the wall until now, but he also now knew exactly how many there were. He’d counted them all. Four times.

Showing up to work on no sleep was always fun. It was a game Jake liked to play called, “How long can I go before someone yells at me?” with the follow up addendum, “Who’s going to yell at me?”

Normally it was Terry.

Holt noticed, but didn’t comment on it - Jake doubted he cared one way or the other, so long as he did his job effectively. Rosa was the same way. Gina would pretend to be oblivious, but would walk by his desk with a coffee - most likely spiked with 6 hour energy - at some point for him. Meanwhile, Hitchcock and Scully were _actually_ just oblivious. Charles would notice, but was always a lot more on the kind side about it, trying to convince Jake to eat some weird concoction that would ‘help’. He always politely declined Charles’ overture.

Unfortunately, Charles’ commotion would normally attract Terry’s attention - if Terry didn’t spot Jake’s demeanor instantly, anyway - and then it was all downhill from there. Terry had a tendency to be overly… maternal, maybe was the right word, when it came to the team. It was objectively great, and Jake didn’t mind it at times - in fact, he sometimes quite enjoyed Terry’s protectiveness, it felt paternal in a way that gave him way too many emotions about his actual parents - but he really wasn’t in the mood for it today.

Amy, meanwhile, would notice his exhaustion, but usually use it as an opportunity to get ahead on their bet. Although, actually, now that that was over, Jake didn’t know what Amy’s take would be. Somehow he doubted she’d be in the Holt-Rosa boat of not giving a fuck about it. Probably closer to Charles, honestly - except on the annoyed side, rather than the worried one.

Although, since his being tired no longer benefited her, he wasn’t sure she would even bother to comment on it in the first place.

Jake hadn’t had one of these… sleepless-post-nightmare nights in a while. He’d gotten better about them. Sort of. Not really. It wasn’t so much that he got better at handling them - he really, really hadn’t - but more that they had just stopped cropping up on their own.

Jake wasn’t sure why they had left him for so long, but he had been grateful for the reprieve.

Clearly that reprieve was over, though - a fact which would have frustrated him, save for the fact that all Jake felt on the matter was deep, apprehensive fear.

Jake forced himself to his feet, deciding to ignore that fun new addition to his life - along with all of his other fears, the crush on Amy, and everything else that made his life harder.

It wouldn’t do to think too much on it, after all - that would only ever make it all so much worse.

So Jake elected to busy himself with reciting every line of Die Hard he could recall - which, yes, was all of them - as he got ready and left for work, barely remembering to grab a bagel on the way out.

Jake got all the way to his desk before realizing that he had forgotten to put cream cheese on it. Which he realized when he bit into it.

Well.

Dry bagel it was.

He was too tired to even get annoyed about it.

Amy rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, Jake, you could at least try to eat like an adult.”

Her tone was clearly intended to be joking, but Jake felt a rush of embarrassment - quickly putting the bagel onto his desk.

“I- uh, forgot.” Jake replied awkwardly, hoping that the neck of his jacket - which he had forgotten to take off - was covering the blush that was starting to creep up his neck.

Amy looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decide to say something or not - Jake mentally prayed she didn’t - and gave a small, internal whoop of joy when she instead just turned back to her computer without comment.

Jake shrugged out of his jacket, discreetly checking to make sure his shirt was on the right way - it was.

His head felt kind of… fuzzy. Not in a subspace way - thankfully, he probably would smash his head into the desk until it stopped if he had - but more just like… he was waiting for something. He was waiting for something - okay, some _one_ \- to attack him.

Or, more accurately, for Ethan to attack him. The elevator would ding, and he’d walk into the bullpen. He’d walk right up to Jake…

Jake could picture a million different things that Ethan would do to him if he ever got his hands on him. None of them were pleasant - most of them involved him with that fucking collar on - and he held out hope that, considering how long it’s been since he had left… Well, Ethan had stopped going after him after a while. Jake was pretty sure Gina was the one who did manage to eventually get him to back off - she never admitted to it, but he had his suspicions.

Maybe he’d forgotten him. Heh. As if Ethan would ever forget the sub who had- the sub who had left him.

He groaned, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes. He was way too sleep-deprived to even think in general, let alone think about Ethan.

Jake felt the eyes of Terry on him - he bit back another groan. Perfect.

Sure enough, Terry stood up, walking towards his desk.

“Everything alright, Peralta?” He asked, leaning on the side of his desk in a forced attempt at being casual.

Amy glanced up, eyes flicking between Terry and Jake - her expression unreadable.

“I’m fine,” Jake replied. Then, seeing Terry’s expression, added, “Just a bit tired is all. Nothing some caffeine won’t fix.”

Terry looked hesitant. “Are you sure?” He asked cautiously. He seemed to sense something was off, but wasn’t quite able to place it. If he did know what was up, Jake was sure he’d find a way to accidentally announce it to the entire precinct.

Look, Jake appreciated Terry. He really did. But Terry was… well, he was loud. And tended to draw attention to things. Which was decidedly not what Jake wanted - like, fuck, Terry’s so obvious that even Scully and Hitchcock could pick up on it. Well, actually, Jake reflected, watching Hitchcock try to get his hand unstuck from his own desk drawer, maybe that was a bit of an overstatement.

Regardless, it was in his best interest to assuage whatever concerns Terry may have. So, Jake plastered a gigantic smile onto his face, flashing it brightly at him. “Yep! Thanks for asking though, Ter-bear.”

Terry still looked unsure, but without anything to go off of he just uncrossed his arms, getting to his feet. “Alright man.” He said, patting Jake on the shoulder as he left.

Jake flinched slightly, half-expecting the touch to burn, but thankfully Terry didn’t notice, back already turned.

Jake turned back around to face his desk, eyes meeting Amy’s - who was looking at him with an expression that looked a touch too much like concern.

“What?” He asked - meaning to come off friendly, but ending up with something a bit more terse.

“Oh, nothing! Sorry, just spacing out.” Amy replied quickly, averting her eyes to type a few keys of her computer.

Jake wanted to apologize for the attitude - but he wasn’t entirely sure how to bring it up. So instead he just went back to working away on the stack of paperwork at his desk.

He jolted as a mug of steaming coffee was placed at his desk. Looking up, Jake saw Amy giving him a small, fond smile as she went to her desk. He really was out of it - he hadn’t even noticed she had gotten up to begin with.

“Oh. Thanks.” Jake said automatically, taking a sip. It was made just how he liked it - too much sugar, and just a bit of creamer.

“No problem.” She replied, already flipping open a file.

She was so nonchalant about it, and he so exhausted, that Jake didn’t notice until much later that Amy hadn’t made a cup of coffee for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't sure how to write the first nightmare/flashback. there's going to be more of them as the peraltiago develops, for contrast, plot, and maximum angst. i figured for the first one i'd go a bit symbolic, because jake isn't in a point of reference yet for a crisis about how amy treats him versus ethan. (also yes! i finally came up with a name for the ex. it took way more effort than i want to admit)
> 
> comments are super appreciated! i love them so much, the serotonin i experience is unparalleled


	16. Chapter 16

Jake stared at the coffee pot, deliberating whether or not to make another pot. The mug Amy had handed him sat empty on the counter. There was one cup left. He heard footsteps approaching, and quickly poured the last of it into his mug - guess he was making the pot after all. He’d rather not have to wait - he could barely keep his eyes open as it was. The caffeine fix of Amy’s cup was officially wearing off, it seemed.

“Hey, Jake.” Amy said from beside him, “Mind if I squeeze by?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Jake stepped to the side, letting her get into the fridge. He fiddled with the tub of coffee, scooping grounds into the machine. His hands felt weirdly shaky - he told himself it was caffeine withdrawal. Nothing to do with him making coffee. Nothing to do with Amy beside him.

“God, what did Charles bring?” Amy asked, grimacing into the fridge.

“Oh, yeah, he heard I was tired.” Jake cracked a grin, “Do you want to know what it’s made of?”

“Actually, no, I don’t.” Amy replied, straightening up and closing the door with the look of disgust still in place. She paused for a moment, giving him a weird look. After a moment, she asked, “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Yeah.” Jake replied, feeling a twinge of something akin to apprehension - he wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he figured it had to do with his exhaustion.

“I just… I noticed you seemed a bit out of it today.”

Yep. There it was. Jake mentally smacked himself. He should have disguised it better. Ugh.

He slapped on a smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired is all. Hence the coffee.” He lifted the mug to take a gulp of it. It was burned.

“Yeah…” Amy said slowly. “Look, I just… I wanted to apologize.”

“Huh?” Whatever Jake was expecting, it wasn’t that. He nearly choked on his drink. “What for?”

“Just… I realized that last night might have been- well, it was a bit of an intense conversation. And I didn’t mean to get so worked up.” She added with a forced chuckle, before her face turned serious again. “But it was wrong of me to push you on that… marriage comment you made. I could tell it made you uncomfortable, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine.” He repeated again. Then adding, “No, seriously, Amy, it’s fine. Conversations go both ways. It’s no biggie.”

“Still, I am sorry.” She looked more than a bit guilty.

“Seriously, I don’t care.” Jake waved his hand dismissively, nearly sloshing coffee onto the floor. “Look, last night was… I liked the conversation we had. I don’t regret it.”

That was true. Even if it was what triggered his crush - which was definitely not his best moment - or, as he was beginning to suspect, his nightmare, he still appreciated the conversation on a whole. Sure, Amy was almost hilariously passionate about sub rights, but he couldn’t find it in himself to crack a joke about it. It felt sort of nice, to see a dom on his side. Of course, Amy didn’t know that she was - he was sure that if she actually knew the situation, she would feel differently - but for now he got to pretend. And a dom who wasn’t saying they supported sub rights just to get praised for it, or to get sex out of it. Amy seemed to just… genuinely care.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret anything that had caused that fact to become known to him.

“Just, it was inappropriate of me.” Amy replied. “Look, if anyone had- just, I was thinking about how it would be to betray Teddy like that, and it just… it really got to me, is all.”

“Oh.” Jake’s mouth was moving, even as his brain slowly processed her words. “Who’s Teddy?”

“Oh, did I not- oh, right, I guess not, sorry.” Amy smiled awkwardly, “Teddy’s my boyfriend. He’s a cop in the 82nd precicnt., we met at a code seminar.”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.” Jake said after a moment, brain still stuck.

“Yeah,” Amy’s smile turned bright, “He laminates his paperwork too, you know.”

“Oh wow.” Jake replied, bringing his mug up to take a sip. “Well, I need to get back to work. Uh, congrats.”

“Oh, thanks!” Amy beamed.

Jake walked back to his desk. He felt oddly out of place. Of course this happened. He gets a crush on Amy. Amy has a boyfriend.

He wanted to laugh at himself. It didn’t matter - even if Amy was single, he’d never have been able to date her anyway. He was way too much of a fucking mess for that.

Teddy. Hm. Jake had to admit, the guy sounded exactly like Amy’s type. Smart, nerdy… okay, so that was all he knew about him so far. But that’s not the point. Teddy sounded like a kind of sub that actually deserved Amy. He sounded… well, not like Jake.

Jake was happy for Amy.

He was.

The fact that his chest ached was irrelevant. It wasn’t like her apology for having made him uncomfortable made him crush on her all the harder or anything. Which was actually sort of weird - normally, doms sucked at apologies. Somehow her managing to do it decently only made him like her more.

That didn’t matter.

He was happy for her.

Amy sat down across from him, flashing him a smile as she took a sip of the fresh coffee he had made, the container of food now warm and in front of her.

Jake flicked a rubber band at her.

She rolled her eyes, pointedly turning the monitor to make a shield, even as her expression was amused.

Jake grinned at her.

His chest hurt.

Jake tried to focus on his work. There was no point in thinking about anything else. No good would come of it.

\---  
Terry invited him to get drinks after work.

Jake wasn’t really in the mood - he was dead tired - but the thought of falling asleep was enough to make him accept the offer.

Which is why Jake was sitting at a bar, beer in hand, as Terry talked about his kids.

Yay.

“Look, man,” Terry said finally, getting off the topic of Cagney and Lacey’s newfound disinterest in anything other than mac and cheese, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Terry, I’m fine.”

“Well, it’s just, I heard you and Bernice didn’t work out.”

“Where’d you hear that from?” Jake asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Boyle told me. While carrying on about her not being good enough for you.”

“Oh. That sounds like Charles.” Jake picked at the edge of the label. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”

“So she broke up with you? That’s rough, man.”

“I never said- ugh, yes.” Jake admitted, annoyed, “Look, it’s not a big deal. I liked someone, they don’t like me back, end of story.” He was talking about Bernice. Sort of. “Not to overstate it, but I’m definitely going to die alone and work is all I have.”

“Look, what you need is a rebound. No jobs, no real talk. Just… getting it on.” Terry said, nudging Jake’s shoulder.

“You offering?” Jake joked.

“Nah, I prefer my wife.” Terry replied, leaning back and glancing around the room. “There are plenty of attractive folks in this room. Why don’t you go home with one?”

“I can’t believe you brought me out here to get laid.” Jake laughed, “I thought you wanted to talk to me about your kids all night.”

Look, Jake. You’re one of my kids. And, well, I worry about you sometimes.”

“Okay, that’s enough mother henning for today.” Jake patted Terry’s beefy shoulder. “I’m going to go talk to people.”

“Alright, alright. Have fun!” Terry said as Jake walked away. “Find your meatloaf!”

Jake probably should have paid more attention to whatever Terry had been talking about earlier. He figured he’d just wait for Terry to leave - the man didn’t have much room for late-night outings now that he had a pregnant wife and twins - and then duck out. Alone.

But the aching in his chest wouldn’t go away - Amy’s words from the previous night echoing in his ears and making his heart twist - and he decided, fuck it, rebound’s a rebound whether it’s from a breakup or a never-going-to-get-together.

No commitment. Just… some sex. Barely even names.

Jake highly doubted that Terry knew that was what most of his ‘relationships’ consisted of. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have advised it - probably would have driven him to a fucking therapist instead of a bar, that was for sure.

Besides. He wouldn’t have to go to sleep if he fucked - or got fucked - into the morning. Maybe he was being selfish. But his reasons were no more or less valid than anyone else’s for wanting some action. He just _really_ didn’t want to see Ethan again. Have to be back there again. Feel his hands on him, touching him, _hurting_ him-

Jake made his way to a tall, dark haired woman who was pushing around a glass of wine. Definitely a dom, if her energy was anything to go off of.

He leaned against the bar beside her.

“Hello there.” He said cheerfully.

She looked up, a smile crossing her face. “Hi,” She said, leaning forward.

“It seems you’re not a fan of this joint’s wine.” He offered.

“Ha, yeah. But, it’s not the worst I’ve had.” She replied, “I’m here more for the hot wings than the booze.”

“Me too!” Jake exclaimed, “Their triple pepper hot wings are supposedly really spicy. I’ve been meaning to have some.”

She looked at him incredulously, grin widening. “Me too! I was about to order them. Here,” She gestured to the seat across from her, “Join me. We can suffer together.”

“Gladly.” Jake replied, taking the proffered seat. “I’m Jake.”

“Sophia.” She replied. “So, answer me this: if you had a clone, what would you do with it?”

“Okay, first of all, brand the number 2 into its cheek. You shouldn’t have a clone if you don’t know to do that.” He replied immediately.

“Exactly!” She nodded, “Clones can’t kill you or replace you if there’s a distinguishing feature!”

“Right?”

They continued to chat away, stopping only to eat some hot wings - and then go wild over the pain of… well, the hotness.

When they cleaned the plate, Sophia raised an eyebrow. “So… we both agree we like Die Hard. How about we go back to my place and watch some?”

“That sounds good.” Jake said, “I do love me some Bruce Willis.”

They left, maintaining a friendly chatter as Sophia drove to her place. They shared a lot of the same interests, from wings, to Die Hard, to basketball - watching, not playing -, and to ping pong.

Sophia’s apartment was very similar to how she was. Sleek and professional, but with the edge of fun that really just made the place enjoyable to be in.

It looked like someplace an actual adult would live in, unlike his own home.

Three movies later, they were on her bed.

Sex with Sophia was… well, it was about what he had expected from her - based on her attitude, demeanor, and her apartment’s style. Where Bernice had been hesitant, almost avoidant, of taking on the dom role, Sophia had no such qualms.

She knew what she wanted, and how to get it - within the quickly negotiated boundaries they’d set, anyway. Jake couldn’t help but feel a bit used - his presence had seemed almost optional to her pleasure - and it reminded him a bit of… well, Ethan, actually. Like he wasn’t actually really a person in the room, just… a method of her getting off.

Jake didn’t mind being used. Really, he didn’t. It wasn’t like he was worth anything more to begin with. Well, not here, anyway. In the world of policing, in movie trivia, in jokes and Mario Party and so many things… he knew that he had value. He did. But here, in a bed, on his back… there was no value he could give. Nothing beyond whatever the dom decided they wanted from him. Nothing beyond what they wanted to do to him.

Jake knew he was making the whole thing sound way too negativistic - fact was, it was nice just to be physically close to someone. Not to mention, spending time with Sophia was enough to quell the gnawing fear of Ethan’s reappearance out of his mind, at least for a bit. And she was a welcome distraction from Amy - Amy has a boyfriend, he has to move on - _and_ Sophia made sure he had enjoyed himself just as much as she had been.

It had been a while since he’d been around a self-assured dom like Sophia. Ones who didn’t feel the need to prove their own dom-ness to him. She knew what she was, and she knew what he was, too. There was no grasp at power, no big show of control. She already knew she had all of it. She had nothing to prove to him. He was just a sub, after all.

Still. Sex was over. He needed to do something. He could feel sleep creeping in around the edges of his vision, and he wasn’t ready yet.

“So, I noticed a ping pong table.” Jake said abruptly.

Sophia’s hands, which were in the middle of doing up her shirt, paused. “You play?”

“Yeah. Not to brag, but I am _very_ good.”

“Oh really?” Her face split into a grin. “I’d like to see you prove it.”

Jake hopped up eagerly, glad he was able to have pinpointed something that she was clearly invested in.

“Game on!”

They played well into the morning, in a hotly contested game that seemed without end. Hopefully without end. Jake was enjoying himself quite a bit - mostly the game itself, but a part of him would have gladly stared at a wall by himself, if only to keep the night away. Although, he did much prefer playing ping pong as opposed to counting wall pockmarks in his room for a fifth time.

Sophia was the one to finally call it a night. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow.” She said, holding the ping pong ball in one hand, racket in the other.

“Sounds like you’re chickening out because you know you can’t win.” Jake joked, not wanting the night to end. Not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. With his stupid fucking mind and its supid fucking dreams.

But she just laughed. “I promise, we can have a rematch some other time. But I do need some sleep. And you probably do to, tomorrow is a weekday.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Jake agreed, even as he privately mourned the end of this reprieve. He had known it wasn’t going to last - but it wasn’t like he’d expected it to in the first place. More just… pretended.

Still. He glanced at the clock, which read 2:12am. At least he’d made it this long without sleep.

Maybe he’d be able to drink some coffee to make it to tomorrow.

Jake could practically hear Rosa chewing him out over getting enough sleep just by thinking it. But whatever. He’d take what escapes he could.

He thought he was past this. Living in fear, frantically trying to avoid the ever-looming presence of Ethan. Well, he knew that he had always been afraid. Always. It was just… he’d been able to ignore it for a bit. The whole thing was just rearing its head - and would quiet down just as soon, if he was just patient with it. Avoidant with it. Trouble was, if he started dreaming too much of Ethan, it would only add onto itself, build up into something worse again. He had to nip it in the bud. He had to stop the spiral before it started - lest he end up where he had after he first ended it.

Fuck, just thinking about that was enough to scare him into wanting to stay awake for the rest of his life.

Still, he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake at Sophia’s, that was for sure.

Jake doble-checked that he had his keys and phone before heading for the door, Sophia half-a-step behind him.

“Hey,” She said.

Jake turned.

Sophia pressed him up against the door, pinning him in place. Not gentle by any means, and certainly firmly enough that it would take actual effort to break free, but it wasn’t a slam.

She leaned in, kissing him heavily, tongue sliding into his mouth and teeth grazing his lip. She pulled back just as Jake was beginning to wonder if he’d be able to breathe.

“See you around.” She said, stepping back and opening the door.

“Yeah, you too.” Jake replied, turning.

She smacked his ass, and he turned around and gave her a grin - face flushed red. Sophia closed the door, a satisfied smile on her face as he went.

Jake barely made it to his apartment before he practically fell down, exhaustion rearing its ugly head. 24 hours without sleep wasn’t exactly a good thing, and he so desperately wanted to stay up. Keep it all away.

Of course, the mess he was during the worst of the nightmares - when he would do anything, _anything_ to stay awake just a few minutes longer… those weren’t good days, either. Him drinking energy drinks and coffee until he could feel his heartbeat thrumming in his chest, forcing himself into uncomfortable positions so that sleep wouldn’t come, working shift after shift of overtime just to try to stave off the ever-encroaching need to rest.

He wasn’t safe to drive, wasn’t safe to work. Would pick at his skin to stay awake, slam his knee into his desk if he started to space out. Anything to avoid it.

In the end, Rosa had just drugged him. Desperate for him to stop before he killed himself.

That… hadn’t ended well for either of them.

Jake had screamed until his vocal cords ripped.

Rosa had… well, it was the first time he’d ever known her to be genuinely afraid. She had been afraid for him, sure, but still. Afraid nonetheless.

Ugh. Jake scrubbed at his face. He was way too tired to deal with memories of that whole fucking experience on top of the shit he already had on his mind.

He padded into the kitchen, deciding to make a pot of coffee. Needing to make a pot of coffee.

He knew he shouldn’t. Knew he needed to sleep, if only for his own sake. But Jake was nothing if not avoidant, so he ended up putting coffee grounds into his pot. He decided to sit on the floor, staring at the clock while waiting for the pot to be ready.

He realized after 20 minutes that he’d forgotten to turn the machine on.

Well.

He should get up and turn it on.

But the floor was cool, and getting up seemed like far too much effort. He’d get up in a minute. He would just close his eyes for a second, the lights of the kitchen too bright against his eyes. He only needed a moment, and he’d be fine.

He was asleep before he realized he’d leant back against the cupboards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love comments!! hint hint :D
> 
> i've been awol from my WIPs doing my fic request november (10 requests total, whew) but back at it again now! happy to be here :)
> 
> we've officially moved into s2's teddy and sophia shenanigans. rest assured we are yeeting headlong into peraltiago territory at warpspeed, which is something to look forward to! for next chapter, i figure i'll have some angsty flashbacks + an episode-based segment (i've gotten a few requests for the vulture ep put in here somewhere. not promising it'll be this upcoming one, but it will happen eventually) + a friendly reminder not to send comments asking me to hurry up/update faster <3


	17. Chapter 17

Jake woke up with a scream in his throat, choking on air - his heart was pounding its way up his throat, and he felt that, should he open his mouth in that moment, he would surely vomit out his lungs.

He brought one hand up to his face, skin dripping with sweat. He covered his eyes with his hand, taking - or trying to take - a few deep breaths.

His mind was racing, screaming at him - but he wasn’t entirely sure _what_ it was trying to say. He pushed himself up against the cupboard, pulling his legs to his chest so he could rest his head on his knees. Breathing felt like a monumentous effort, and he realized - with no small amount of fear - that it was only getting more and more difficult.

Jake’s chest ached, and, no matter how hard he tried, his lungs simply _wouldn’t_ expand to take in air. He placed both of his hands onto his knees, forcing his eyes open. For some, irrational reason, he was afraid he would see… well, he didn’t even know. Something, someone, a manifestation of a thought, it didn’t matter and he couldn’t remember what it was he was waking up afraid from.

Regardless of what he was afraid of seeing, it was mildly comforting to see that nothing of note was there. Since his back was against the cupboards, he was able to escape the ‘behind you’ anxiety that would so often come whenever he woke up like this.

Although, of course, it wasn’t like he woke up without remembering his more… unpleasant dreams all that often. No, Jake was a cop, and remembering details was, unfortunately, part of his job description - quite literally - and that meant that he very rarely forgot even a moment.

Maybe not remembering was a mercy - he had lived through his life once, and that was already more than he could take. Having to relive the worst parts of it - or, even more cruelly, the _good_ moments - on repeat fucking sucked. So hey, not remembering his dream was a good thing!

So then why couldn’t he make himself breathe?

Jake closed his eyes again, placing his forehead on his knees. He felt vaguely ill, as if about to vomit, but he knew enough to know that that wasn’t going to happen. He brought one hand up to touch his neck, immeasurably reassured when his shaking hand met clammy, sweaty skin as opposed to the cold metal he half-expected.

It felt as if his heart was half in his throat, and it was hammering away like he’d just run a marathon - not that he’d ever willingly do that, but still.

Jake didn’t risk opening his eyes again - he already felt much too dizzy as it was - instead just trying to focus on the texture of his pants under his hands.

It felt weird - his hands were vaguely tingly, if not almost completely numb - and the texture felt vaguely alien. Still, the repetition of rubbing the fabric with his fingers was comforting, and Jake found himself unable to convince himself to stop - not that he was particularly inclined to, though.

How long Jake sat there, he didn’t know, but, eventually, his heart slowly crept its way back down to its rightful place, and his pulse slowed. Even as he became aware of his breathing becoming easier - instead of taking rapid, strained gasps, it was more like slightly-faster-than-normal breathing - the tingling in his fingers turned sharp, almost painful. He regretfully let them fall back to the floor, and slowly lifted his face up, wincing as he opened his eyes to the bright light of his kitchen.

Jake turned his head - wincing as he did so. He was by no means old, but it wasn’t like he could sleep on the floor without consequences - and squinted, trying to read the clock.

It read just past 9 o’clock, and it took a moment before Jake’s mind processed it.

Once it clicked, however, he jerked himself to his feet, ignoring the twinge of his stiff neck as he did so.

 _Fuck_. He had to be at the courthouse at 10.

He ran through the motions of prepping for court - thankfully he knew his case from front to back, but unfortunately a large portion of being at court was centered around looking professional. Which meant he had to actually put in effort.

Jake _hated_ going to court. For one thing, he had a high case closure rate, so he got called in more often than he’d care to. Secondly, the attorneys would always ask him a very… specific range of questions.

And every time, it was a toss up on if this case would be the one where he’d snap.

Of course, he never did. It wouldn’t bode well for his career, or his dignity - assuming that he even had any of that left - so he always found a way to bite his tongue. Today would be no different.

Besides, this was the Millhound case. That dick had nearly shot him - and had tried to _command_ him, for fuck’s sake - so Jake wasn’t planning on skipping it.

Given his leftover anxiety, Jake really didn’t want to wear a tie - just the idea of something being wrapped around his throat just… he didn’t want it. But he knew that, like with most things, he didn’t have a choice in the matter - not really - and put one on with shaky hands. Whether that shaking just hadn’t gone away from when he woke up, or if it was returning now, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He supposed it didn’t matter either way. Not like it would change the outcome. All members of the 99 were expected to wear formal wear for the courts, something that even Rosa begrudgingly complied with. It wasn’t like he could roll up in a polo - not without it reflecting badly on Holt, at any rate. And Jake wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize his Captain’s standing - considering he genuinely liked Holt, and all. Maybe even looked up to him. A bit.

Jake had always wanted a father figure who would give a fuck, and, now that he perhaps had a chance of having one, he was not going to risk losing it. Not over something as stupid as this. As insignificant.

Jake grimaced as he pulled the knot tight, swallowing down his discomfort as the tie secured itself around the base of his neck, its slight pressure letting its presence become all too noticeable. Forcing himself not to undo it - he felt like it was too tight, choking him, he couldn’t breathe-

Jake closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep, slow breath. It was fine. The tie was fine. He was fine. He slowly reopened his eyes, before finishing getting dressed - there wasn’t time for coffee, but he was able to yoink some breakfast - and then just _booking_ it to the courthouse. With any luck, there would be an opportunity to get coffee there.

There was never parking near the courthouse. So now there was no time to get coffee. That was definitely on track with how his entire day… fuck, his entire _week_ had been going.

Jake barely made it to the courtroom, spotting the back of Terry’s head - and his shoulders practically bulging out of his suit - and slid down next to him quickly, bracing himself to get yelled at.

Instead, Terry just flashed him a grin.

“Had a good night, Peralta?” He asked leadingly.

“Huh?” Jake felt his anxiety spike - how did Terry possibly know about? - but then remembered that Terry had told him to find meatloaf the night prior. And that he had probably seen Jake leave with Sophia, too.

Jake slapped on a grin. “Oh, yeah! It was good.”

“Did you give her your number?”

“Well, yeah. She likes Die Hard. And ping pong. Not like I wasn’t going to.”

“Nice, nice.” Terry nodded, patting Jake on the shoulder, seeming pleased.

It felt a little weird to have Terry so encouraging - people tended to be a bit… uncomfortable with the idea of a male sub seeking out relationships. Although, there was usually less issue of him being with dom women than dom men, and if it was a switch - well then he was a homewrecker, pure and simple. Sophia exuded domness, though, so it made sense why Terry wouldn’t take an issue with it.

Not that Terry would, necessarily. Just that… that was what it usually was.

Sometimes Jake couldn’t get his brain to stop assuming that people he trusted weren’t thinking like the societal ‘people’. Maybe it was him trying to protect himself from when they inevitably let him down, maybe it was because he was a fucked up, broken- ugh. He had a headache forming, and thinking just made it worse.

Terry was just leaning over to crack a joke at the defense attorney’s expense - they were going to be late if they didn’t get there in the next minute - the doors opened, and a familiar figure strode past Jake. Before doing a double-take, turning around to face them.

“Jake?” Sophia asked, surprise evident in her voice.

“H...ey,” He said slowly, noting the briefcase and binder in her arms.

“You’re a cop?” She asked - her voice sounded accusatory - as if he had intentionally hid that fact from her.

Jake immediately bristled. “And you’re a defense attorney?” He snapped back, resisting the urge to fiddle with his tie. Or apologize for not telling her something that had simply never come up.

“I can’t believe I-” She dropped her voice, “I can’t believe I slept with a _cop_.” She sounded disgusted.

Jake gestured to the defense table, “And I can’t believe _I_ slept with someone who defends criminals! What’s your point?”

“Ugh, this- we shouldn’t- ugh.” Sophia frowned, “I should never have done this. It was a mistake.”

Jake gave her a half-hearted glare as she turned and went across the bar into the… main courtroom area thing. He didn’t know what it was called, and was too annoyed to ask Terry.

“Was that-?”

“Yeah.” Jake replied irritably - he was sleep deprived, already fucking stressed out enough, and now this was just icing on the shit cake.

“Damn. I’m sorry, man.” Terry said, shaking his head. “A defense attorney.”

Jake didn’t reply, hands finding their way to the edge of his tie, scratching over the lining in a half-conscious attempt to self-soothe. Watching as Sophia took files out of her briefcase, he realized - with no small amount of anxiety - that that meant she was going to cross-examine him.

Fuck.

By some small mercy - how he had earned even the slightest reprieve was beyond him - Amy would have already done her piece the day prior - he didn’t have to sit and listen to her go through it all, piece by piece. Not that she’d be questioned nearly as extensively as he would be - ironic, considering she was the arresting officer, but not exactly surprising.

He was the weakest link of the two, after all. At least in the jury’s eyes, at any rate, which was the only opinion that mattered here.

Jake was the first witness called for the day - which meant that, once this was over, he could go back home and recount the marks on his wall until the sun went down - and he settled into his professional, officer of the law demeanour. He flashed a smile to the judge - who smiled back - and then faced the front.

The prosecutor walked through the entire process, having Jake detail, step by step, how they led to arresting Dylan Millhound for murder. Once that was completed, the defense - Sophia - took over.

She stepped forward, her heels clicking on the floor. She looked immaculately put together, the very picture of professionalism. A lawyer.

Jake’s hand crept to his tie, sliding the edge of it under his fingernail.

“Officer Peralta,” Sophia began, her voice clipped into that perfect sort of skeptically-neutral tone that lawyers always seemed to use. “Did the defendant threaten you prior to the arrest?”

“He had a gun-”

“The defendant was in his own home, and had a license to carry. My question was not whether or not my client exercised the 2nd Amendment, my question was if the defendant threatened you.”

“Millhound had a gun in his hand. I identified myself, and instructed him to drop the weapon. He did not, and approached me despite my ordering him to stop. At that point, Millhound raised his gun at me, at which point my partner disarmed and arrested him.”

“So he didn’t _say_ anything to indicate being a threat?”

“The gun-”

“Yes or no.”

“He didn’t threaten me _verbally_ , no.” Jake replied shortly. He was half-tempted to add that Millhound had tried to command him, but wasn’t sure if that would go over well.

“No, my client didn’t threaten. Nothing indicated he was dangerous, and yet the arrest report is being used to indicate my client’s guilt?”

“Objection.” The prosecutor interjected, “Is there a question?”

“Withdrawn.” Sophia replied automatically, eyes still fixed on Jake. His grip tightened on the bottom of his tie - he wanted to take it off. He didn’t.

“Officer Peralta, what is your orientation?”

“Objection!” The prosecutor spluttered, half-rising before a glare from the bailiff made him sit back down.

Jake’s gaze snapped to Terry, who looked like he was attempting - and most likely succeeding - to bend the unoccupied chair in front of him.

“The question pertains to the officer’s judgement and perception of my client.” Sophia argued.

The judge looked bored. “Get to the point quickly.”

Sophia nodded, before turning to Jake. “If you could answer the question, Office Peralta.”

“I’m a sub.” He replied, keeping his affect completely flat. Hands still in his lap. Not moving, and barely breathing. The very picture of a neutral answer, neutral expression, neutral _existence_. Anything less would have made the jury paint him as a whimpering damsel.

One glance towards the jury indicated that there were what looked like 9 doms - or, non-subs, anyway - and that did little to ease his concern. A few of them already looked skeptical. One woman - clearly a sub - looked uncomfortable.

“Has being a sub ever affected your judgement?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m under oath.”

“Please answer the question.”

“Yes, I’m sure. My ability to do my job is not impacted by my orientation.” Jake was keeping his voice neutral - if he lost it now, he would lose all credibility - but allowed himself to add, “There have been numerous studies, and the modern consensus is that orientation does not affect work capability or judgement.”

“Of course, no one is questioning your skills as an officer, or your placement in the NYPD.” Sophia nodded, “However, this situation was… unusual, was it not?”

“I don’t understand your question.” Jake replied coolly. He could feel his hands rapidly becoming sweaty, but didn’t dare wipe them.

“According to your report, the defendant commanded you, and then you perceived the gun being raised towards you. Is this situation unusual?”

Jake paused, considering. “Define unusual.”

Sophia’s expression flickered for a moment. “Uncommon.”

“No. Suspects attempting to escape through any means means that occasionally they attempt to command me or a fellow colleague, It is something we were prepared for the possibility of occurring when we were trained for the NYPD.

“So your anxiety about being commanded wouldn’t cause your judgement to be skewed and perceive a threat?”

Jake’s head filled with cotton - the first part, how - she said that out loud. To a courtroom. On record. He swallowed, feeling like he was going to gag on his tie. It was a tether, tying him here to this moment. Inescapable.

“My judgement was not skewed in any way by the defendant’s actions.” Jake replied, “I am fully capable of observing situations with the same reality as my colleague and, you know, real life. As for being commanded,” Jake couldn’t quite bite back the cold half-laugh, making direct eye contact with Sophia, “I have to actually _trust_ someone to take a command. Needless to say, _you_ …r client didn’t meet that criteria.”

She blinked, looking vaguely like she’d been slapped. “So you were completely unaffected by being commanded? It didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes and yes.” Jake wasn’t sure if that was technically perjury, but it was true in the context of the case.

“In that case,” Sophia said - as if she was circling prey. He supposed, in her eyes, maybe that was precisely what she was doing - “Why would you describe his command as a threat?”

Jake blinked. “Because… his attempt to do it constitutes a threat.”

“I’m confused. You just said that you were completely unaffected, and that it didn’t cause you any discomfort. So, then why was it a threat?” Sophia turned, more towards the jury than him. “Or, did you use any opportunity available to portray my client as a threat? And, in that case, we can’t trust your statement that the gun was being used threateningly, either.”

Jake made eye contact with Terry again.

The chair in front of him looked significantly more stout than it had before.

Jake wished he was still just having a panic attack on his kitchen floor. It was distinctly preferable to this.

\----  
“Hey,” Sophia caught up to Jake as he and Terry were leaving.

“What the hell was that?” Jake asked, irritated. “You questioned my place on the force, my ability to fucking _think_ for myself-”

“It’s not personal.” Sophia frowned. Outside of the courtroom, she was still polished - but her posture a little more slack, demeanour less clipped. “My job is to defend my client. That means I have to pursue every angle.”

“Including the one where I’m a lying, delusional sub who can’t tell reality from fiction?”

“I’m just trying to convince the jury that my client isn’t guilty.” Sophia shrugged.

Jake felt another swell of irritation. “Well, good job.”

“Look, Jake,” She said, stepping closer. “I wanted to talk about… well, I enjoyed last night.”

Jake turned towards Terry, but the Sarge could move fast when he wanted to, and had all but moved completely out of earshot, idling near the coffee cart.

“Look, what I said earlier,” She said, “I was just surprised. You’re fun, and it’s hard to find a guy who… well,” She shrugs, “I think we should go on another date.”

Jake blinked. Considering the grilling she gave him, he didn’t expect her to have the guts for _that_.

“As if I’d date a DA.” He replied, trying for a joke - it felt flat - but Sophia just nodded.

“I’d be willing to date a cop. If the cop was you.” She offered.

Jake hesitated. The idea of going out again with Sophia again was equal parts appealing and discouraging. On the one hand, she was a DA, and clearly had no problems digging up whatever it took to win - which didn’t bode well for him long-term. On the other, she was fun, and he genuinely liked being around her. And, he admitted guiltily, being around her helped keep the world at bay - remembrance of Ethan, his stupid affections for Amy -, even if only for a moment.

Jake had never done well with being alone. _And_ she hadn’t seemed like an overreaching dom, which was a compelling combo.

Truth was, Jake figured it would probably bite him in the ass - like most things always did - he had never been shy of taking on the risk of pain.

“Sure. This Friday, 8pm, drinks at Shaw’s?”

“Sounds good.” She smiled at him. And, with a gentle squeeze on his arm, she left - probably on her way to another case somewhere inside the bowels of the courthouse.

Terry reappeared, holding out a coffee for Jake, a second one for himself in his other hand.

“So?” He asked expectantly, as they walked down the steps out of the courthouse, passing by bustling lawyers as they went.

“I have a second date.” Jake replied, reaching up with his free hand to undo his tie, pulling it off and shoving it into his pocket.

“Really? After she… uh, was a defense attorney?” It sounded like Terry changed his mind on the question halfway through, but Jake didn’t call him on it.

“She’s just doing her job.” Jake shrugged. “Same as us. Besides, I like her. She’s fun.”

“Alright, man. Good for you!” Terry didn’t question it - he rarely questioned relationships, and the few times he ever tried he ended up just monologuing about Sharon for an hour while the other person just nodded along silently.

“I mean it, man,” Terry continued, “You deserve to be happy.”

“What makes you think I need a dom to be happy?” Jake asked sharply, although there was no real venom to it.

Terry shrugged. “Just… I’m glad that it worked out. And you seem like you want a relationship, so…” He trailed off.

Neither tried to save the conversation - it was a little too awkward for their level of friendship, and Jake was mildly relieved when it was time to part ways in their respective vehicles.

Jake realized, sitting in his car, ignition on, that he had no idea where to go. The idea of going home just… didn’t appeal to him in the slightest.

He deliberated for a moment, before pulling his car into the road. Maybe he’d just… drive for a bit. He drove on autopilot, sipping away at the coffee - the combo of sugar and caffeine only served to make his headache worsen - until he recognized the street he was on.

It was Holt’s street.

Jake stopped the car, staring at the house in front of him.

He’d only been here once - for the extremely awkward dinner party that had made Kevin dislike him, probably forever. And had gotten him chewed out by Holt.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing here.

Sure, he respected his Captain - Holt had never discriminated against him, which was more than he could say for, well, any other boss he’d ever had. And he trusted him, of course - it wasn’t like anything less was an option. He even looked up to him, more than a bit - although he felt awkward about admitting that out loud - and the idea of talking to Holt just… didn’t seem appealing.

What was he even wanting to say?

Jake’s head felt like it was full of static, a million thoughts pounding away inside his aching skull. He couldn’t _think_ , all he felt was the urge to just… stop existing for a while.

He wanted to become less than he was. Maybe then, after all, the world would become a little more manageable. If he lost himself, then maybe Ethan would get lost too. Maybe he’d be able to just… be himself.

Jake hadn’t felt like himself in so long. He wasn’t even sure what he had originally been - so much of his life was marred by the existence of his orientation - or if he had ever been anyone other than who he was now in the first place.

Maybe if Roger had never hated him, he wouldn’t hate himself so much now.

Maybe if his mother had trusted him, he wouldn’t be so desperate to prove himself.

Maybe if he had never met Ethan, he would be able to just exist.

Jake realized he was crying. Frowning, he brought up his hand, wiping at his face aggressively - there was no point to him mourning the loss of opportunities he had never been entitled to in the first place.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sharp rap on his half-down - and broken - passenger window. Kevin was staring at him with those sharp blue eyes, expression the same, slightly exasperated resting face he seemed to have. Or, at least, seemed to have around Jake, at any rate.

“Peralta. What brings you by?” He asked, voice crisp, to match his professional clothes.

“Oh, nothing, sorry.” Jake replied, mentally berating himself as his voice came out stuffy from crying. He could tell his eyes were already getting sort of puffy and gross, and he really just didn’t need Kevin to see that. Because he was sure Kevin would talk to Holt about it - like normal, happy couples do.

“Raymond is at the precinct. Did something happen?”

“No, no.” Jake shook his head, “Sorry, I- I haven’t been to the 99 today. I- I got out of court just now, and… I don’t know.” Jake’s breath hitched. He told himself he wasn’t going to cry again. “I just didn’t want to go home-” Fuck. His throat closed off, and he let out a slight huff of breath as his eyes filled up again.

Fuck, he hated this. Way to make a second impression, right? He cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes hastily.

“Sorry to bother you, Kevin. I’ll- I’ll get out of your way.”

Kevin was watching him with that same expression - it hadn’t so much as twitched, but somehow the gaze felt less skeptical, more… appraising. Jake felt like he was looking for something and, whatever it was, he seemed to find it.

“Nonsense. You are a guest, please, come in.” Kevin’s tone didn’t indicate it being a request.

Jake had the urge to spit a ‘fuck you’ and book it - Kevin, despite his slim stature, felt incredibly intimidating in that moment. Jake wanted to run. He felt like he _had_ to run.

But he had nowhere to run to.

So, instead, Jake just stepped out of his car, tucking the keys into his pocket.

Kevin looked slightly pleased - or, at least, Jake guessed that the emotion that flitted on Kevin’s face was pleased, anyway, it wasn’t like he could really tell - and the pair trudged up to the house.

Kevin let him in, sliding off his shoes at the entrance. Jake did the same - since he had gotten ready for court, he had worn his nice socks - and looked around. It looked just as clean and orderly as it had at the party, and Jake figured that made sense, given the attitude the two seemed to have.

“Would you like coffee?” Kevin offered, and Jake nodded, barely remembering to add a “thank you” after.

As Kevin walked into the kitchen, Jake stood for a moment, not entirely sure what to do with himself. As if on cue, their dog - Cheddar? - padded over, stubby little tail wagging away.

Jake sat down on the floor - he wasn’t in the mood to care about taking care of his clothes - and offered his hand.

Cheddar sniffed it, then laid down, rolling half-into Jake’s lap, half splayed out on the hardwood floor.

Jake pet him, surreptitiously checking the dog tag - yeah, it was Cheddar, that’s what he figured - and watching as Cheddar’s tongue stuck out slightly as he lazed about.

It had been too long since Jake had been around pets - his mother wasn’t big on pets, and it wasn’t like he could take care of one. He could barely take care of himself, let alone another living being.

Still, Cheddar filled some need in his heart that he hadn’t been aware of missing in the first place. It took Jake a moment to realize that it was the first time he’d been offered affection without an ulterior motive since Charles had hugged him.

Jake sort of wanted to cry again. But he sure as fuck wasn’t about to do that _inside_ of his Captain’s house, while Kevin bustled around.

Instead, he just focused on Cheddar, the sensation of soft fur under his fingers helping to ground him - the feeling of nonexistence slowly fading down until he stopped becoming aware of it at all.

Jake had all but forgotten Kevin’s presence entirely when the host cleared his throat, holding out a mug. He blinked for a moment, confused, before remembering the coffee, and accepted it.

It was definitely fancy coffee - Jake tried to appreciate it.

Kevin seemed to pause for half a moment in deliberation, before sitting down in an armchair, his own mug in hand.

They sat in a silence that Kevin seemed fully content in. When Jake dared to look at him, he seemed fully engrossed in studying a painting hung on the wall across from him. It seemed to fit with something that Kevin would normally do - at least, he assumed so - so Jake redirected his attention back to Cheddar, who was giving him puppy eyes to ask for more pets.

Jake slowly lost awareness of time, and only became aware of it having passed at all when he lifted his mug to realize that it was now empty.

Jake blinked, staring down into its empty contents - he had, at some point, drunk it - before looking back down and noticing that Cheddar had migrated completely into his lap, curled up and almost certainly asleep.

Jake kept his head still, but brought his eyes up to Kevin - then quickly averting them when he saw that Kevin was watching him.

He was sure that, if he just didn’t acknowledge Kevin’s presence, the other man would be content to sit in silence forever.

But, oddly, Jake felt better. So much better, in fact, that he found himself straightening up and facing Kevin head-on.

“How was your day, Kevin?” Jake asked politely - as if he hadn’t just sat on the floor for who knew how long. As if he hadn’t practically lost his mind. As if he hadn’t shown up unannounced to his home.

“It is going well.” Kevin replied smoothly, “I recently finished a book on the history of history. It was quite compelling, as you can imagine.”

“Oh, cool.” Jake wasn’t sure what ‘history of history’ could even be about. “No classes today?”

“No. It is the second Tuesday of the month.”

“Ah, of course.” Jake said. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but figured it was significant.

“You appear to have taken a liking to Cheddar, Peralta.” Kevin offered.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Jake looked down at the dozing dog, “I, uh, I always wanted a pet. Never really had the chance, though. Cheddar’s a great dog.”

“Yes, he is.” Kevin nodded. “Additionally, Cheddar seems to appreciate your affections in turn.”

Jake felt flattered by that - winning a dog’s approval was not something to be taken lightly, after all - but wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. Instead, he just ducked his head down to give Cheddar’s head some pats.

Kevin seemed to not mind the lack of response, and his gaze flicked from Jake down to the empty mug. He stood, picking up the mug along with his own and leaving for the kitchen.

As he did, Cheddar roused, and the dog blinked blearily up at Jake, clambering out of his lap. He watched as Cheddar stretched, before padding off after Kevin - Jake biting back his disappointment at that. Of course, Cheddar wasn’t his dog, but he found himself missing his presence almost immediately.

Still, Jake admitted, he felt significantly better than he had when he had first left the courthouse. He felt… well, he felt _normal_. Still broken, sure, but normal. Back to his regular functioning self, instead of whatever mess he had been going through for the past… fuck, had it only been a couple days? It felt like it had been forever since Ethan had reared his head in his brain, searing through his skin and branding him with his hands.

Of course, Ethan was always there, lingering down in the back of his mind, but he hadn’t had nightmares - not _really_ bad ones, anyway - or flashbacks or shit in a long time. And, while he still wasn’t convinced they weren’t going to reappear, he was able to convince himself - for this brief moment - that they had gone away, at least for the time being.

He had felt truly at ease with Cheddar in his arms. And that reprieve honestly felt exactly what he had needed.

Jake felt… good. He felt like he was going to be able to go to sleep without waking up screaming. He truly, _truly_ felt that to be the case - incredible what a dog and a bit of peace can do for the mind.

Jake got to his feet, wincing - he hadn’t exactly been sleeping at all lately, but when he did it tended to be in extremely uncomfortable positions, and his body was beginning to go from annoyed to angry about it.

He held his back as he stretched, letting his joints pop along his spine.

Kevin reappeared, sans mugs - Cheddar now at his feet. If he was surprised at Jake moving, he didn’t show it. Instead, his gaze seemed to zero on Jake’s side, expression carefully neutral.

Jake looked down, realizing that, at some point, his tie had slipped out of his side and was now half-hanging out of his pocket. He shoved it back in, before flashing Kevin a disarming grin that had absolutely no effect.

“Hey, Kevin, um,” Jake shifted his weight, “Look, I- thanks. I- um, I,”

“There’s no need to explain, Peralta. I understand.” Maybe it was Jake’s imagination, but Kevin seemed almost… sympathetic. “You are welcome to visit Cheddar again, should you so choose.”

“Oh.” Jake hadn’t even considered hoping for that offer - he had been under the impression Kevin disliked, if not fully despised, him - and he wasn’t even sure how to respond with the appropriate gratefulness. Eventually, he settled on a rather lame, “Thanks.”

Kevin didn’t seem to mind that, either.

“I, um, I should go.” Jake said finally, “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

Kevin nodded once. “Of course. I also have… ‘stuff’.” He seemed amused by saying the word, but, somehow, it didn’t feel like a jab at Jake’s word choice.

Jake slipped his shoes back on, giving a goodbye to both Kevin and Cheddar - who scampered over to ask for one more pat - before leaving, feeling significantly better than he had when he entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so this chapter was pretty hefty!! definitely longer than i expected lol :D
> 
> it was harder than i thought it would be to incorporate this episode into the fic, oops!! but i really wanted to include it so... here we are! and yeah i chickened out of doing a full flashback scene because i want to make it angstier and it just felt cringy doing it inside of the courtroom (i rewrote it like 4 times before scrapping that bit) smh. and i know some of you want some jake and holt bonding time, but for now it's kevin and cheddar - holt is going to take a little more time, i have to prep some more stuff first. but yeah, dogs make everyone feel better!!! and cheddar is 100% good boi <3
> 
> also comments are great!! friendly reminder not to send /hurry up/ comments tho :)


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